A long winter...

As the first day of spring came and went yesterday, and as the falling snow (which has been present and plentiful for months now) keeps me indoors today, I am looking back over the winter. This winter marked my first anniversary living in New Hampshire and my second year away from Cincinnati. I am still learning my way around my new adopted hometown, and I find something new I love about it almost every day. I have also had plenty of times where I realized I still have much to learn. I am also figuring out, more and more, how to spend my time split between family and friends on visits home. Learning I can't fit it all in, and to make sure to see those I did not see the visit before and not to spread myself too thin. That being said, this winter also showed me to never take time for granted when shortly after my visit home at the holidays my grandfather's health took a swift downhill turn and he passed away on Jan. 22. I didn't see him when I went home and I have regrets about that, but the last time I did see him, he remembered enough about me to ask relevant questions about my life. For an Alzheimer's patient this is a big deal, so I try to hold on to that. I like to think that if I had one more chance I would have found the words to express what he meant to me. I don't know if that is true, but the best I can do now is put down here what I would like to have said.

Dear Gramp,
I love and miss you everyday, even as I know you are in a better place. I know the last few years were a struggle for you, so even as my heart hurts at never seeing your smile or hearing your chuckle on this earth again, I know you are in a place where they are never at a loss for how to draw that laugh out. I will probably never hear a bagpipe, taste a glass of scotch, or see any man with the quiet dignity you possessed and not think of you. But I will remember more the moments that, for me, define out relationship. Your patience with a six-year old girl as we went walking through the woods looking for horses and wildflowers, or when you took me, and just me which was a crazy treat for a girl with two younger siblings, to get ice cream as a reward for cleaning all day. To this day that memory makes me feel warm and smiley. I am glad for each of our lunches out, where mostly Gram and I chit-chatted, but you could always be counted on to ask the right question or make the right statement to put into perspective something I was struggling with or to encourage some endeavor I was on, without any extra pressure. You rarely said something just to talk, which made each word uttered was that much more meaningful, funny or important. Hearing "I am proud of you," in your quiet way, with no embellishment or need for more explanation was almost life-altering. You also had a great sense of humor, and I will never forget the sheer hilarity I felt when I figured out that you weren’t nearly as oblivious as you, sometimes, pretended to be. I have to say, though, that for all the fantastic memories I have of you, the most important thing you ever gave me was my dad. I know he isn’t of your blood, but that doesn’t make you any less of an important person in his life. The man who gave him life could have been the only male figure he ever knew, then who knows what happens to him and what form of my family would even exist. Instead you made the decision to take on Gram and her boys. Regardless of how amazing any one or all of them were, that choice is never easy, and I’m sure that they didn’t make it all rainbows and sunshine. In the end, though, he walked out of your house a strong man, one who is deeply caring and who always puts his family before himself. Regardless of how the equation worked itself out, you were a main factor in that, and like I said, that is the biggest gift you ever gave me. I will cherish every moment we spent and all that you taught me, through your own actions and words, and those you passed on through your children.
I love you,
Katie