I started this post a year ago, when my grandpa was sick. This man who'd been such a fixture of my life was fading fast. I couldn't finish the piece last year. Seven days after I started it, Grandpa passed. As I was preparing for this year's SOL challenge, this post stood out to me. It's been nearly a year. The family home has been sold. We have shed tears and laughed about memories. The aching and absence is not quite as fresh, but we all continue to be profoundly affected by his life. 

Four Things About My Grandpa That I Want To Remember

My grandpa is sick. He's 89 years old and a year ago, it felt like he'd be here forever. Then we found out he has cancer, so now we wait. We pray that he doesn't have to linger. As his body starts to shut down, our huge family has been making regular pilgrimages back to our hometown, soaking up all the moments we can.

The last time I was home, I sat next to my grandpa. He was having a good day, talking and joking, opening his eyes for a bit. Before I left, I felt like I need to have a Moment. So I took his hand, kneeled next to his recliner, looked him in the eyes and said, "Grandpa, I love you. You are the best grandpa anyone could have."

He smiled and said, "Okay, okay. I know, honey." And he waved me off. He's not big on emotion.

My mom keeps telling me to focus on the lifetime of memories we've created with Grandpa. So for my first slice, I want to think about the things I want to hold in my heart forever.

How much he loved his front porch.

My grandparents with my twins, Emma and Jacob, who are now 12.

The front porch at 1020 Hurd is our extended family's hub, our heartbeat. In the summer, there's often a gaggle of folks spilling off the steps. People wave as they walk by with their dogs. Visitors drop by. Growing up, we could depend on Grandma and Grandpa to be sitting out there on the glider, reading their latest library books. We lived across the street, and when we'd get home they'd always look up, smile and wave. What a gift it was to live so close to these two.

The old dipsy doodle

My grandparents had a backyard that felt like it went on forever. It was long and narrow. The detached two-car garage had a creepy area behind it with a barrel where Grandpa used to burn leaves. There was a cut through in the hedges that was our shortcut when we walked to Dairy Queen.

My favorite was the family picnics we'd have back there. My grandpa would pitch the wiffle ball to all the grandkids. He'd plant himself in the middle of the yard and we'd line up.

"Okay. Get ready for the old dispy doodle." He'd wind up like a crazy person and let it rip. My cousin Andrew was especially great at ripping those pitches out of the park (or to the end of the yard). I can still remember his skinny legs in those baggy shorts as he lifted one leg high to power those pitches.

His unwavering faith.

My grandparents had a deep faith. They met as young adults in a bowling league through church. For their whole life they were "pillars" of the church. Every afternoon (and probably more) my grandparents prayed the rosary together, holding their red, worn prayer books on their laps. They invited priests over to dinner, circling us around the big dining room table.

My grandparents also were part of an organization called The Franciscans. They grew old with the other couples in this group, praying together, raising children, taking trips to the Holy Land. I was struck most by the way my grandpa lived his faith. He took Communion to the elderly (try calling him elderly). He visited any parishioner who was hospitalized. He loved driving people to their doctor's appointments. He believed in taking care of people and he did it in more ways that I can count.

How he taught us all to be friendly people.

This man never met a stranger. No matter where we went, someone would shout, "Hildy!" He greeted everyone with the same delight, chatting and teasing. Sometimes he'd walk away and mutter, "I'm not sure who that was." Most of the time, though, he could tell you what house they grew up in and how he knew them. He was genuinely interested in people. He loved when we'd bring our friends around. Even until very recently, my 60 year old uncle's high school friends would stop by the front porch to say hi to my grandparents. You could always count on my grandpa to tell a story, usually a funny one. He'd get going and start laughing so hard he couldn't finish.

He was the life of the party. I miss him every day.