Henry the First

Today is the 17th.  My Grandpa Henry would've been 94 today.  He actually passed away 33 years ago.  I was 2 1/2.  Some would say what can you possibly know or remember about someone who died when you were that little?  Oddly, I remember a lot (in fact I have a theory that the reason why I have such a great memory is because I tried to hold on to as much as possible about him).  I remember how he smelled...I remember how the glasses case in his shirt pocket felt against my cheek...I remember how happy I was every time I saw him...I remember that he was my favorite person in the whole world.

I was the absolute perfect child to him.  I was the daughter of his little girl (whom he worshiped).  I know he thought the sun rose and set on me..and I felt the same way about him.  There's a part of me that has missed him everyday since he died.  He's never far from my thoughts.

Now probably if most people picked him apart, they would've thought he was kind of an asshole.  He was incredibly intelligent (to the point it was almost frightening..could work out algebra problems in his head and recite them in front of the class), he was elitist (though he tried to be nice to everyone), stubborn, easily angered with a dangerous (near homicidal) temper, mischievous, and ornery.  He used to throw out topics that would piss his friends off and then sit in the corner and laugh while they fought it out.  The funny thing is...I love every bit of that.  I like men who are stubborn, with devilish senses of humor - men who are incredibly bright...who get mischievous.  I like gentlemen who are kind to everyone but still sort of snobby and picky...men who are quiet and subtle...yet still having their own private Disneyland in their head...who are amused easily.  Both my grandfathers - though neither one was perfect - influenced my opinions on what a man is supposed to be.

Eh..too in depth analyzing on my part.  I'm just thinking of him and waxing poetic.  I think if he were here now and he knew I was talking about him, he'd be more interested in sharing what his last moments on Earth were like.  He had just finished bowling with my grandma and some friends.  He joked to his buddy about if he needed help carrying his balls and then dropped dead of an aneurysm.  It was the perfect way to go out...a sarcastic, well timed, bawdy comment...and he'd probably be damn happy to know that I still think of him and miss him terribly.