In honor of my grandpa's 87th birthday tomorrow, I wanted to write him a letter. Yes, I know that he will never read it. But I wanted to do something to honor him, because I really miss talking to him about things, especially when it's important in my life.
Dear Grandpa;
Happy 87th birthday! I wish there was some way for me to celebrate it with you being here in the flesh. You know a trip to Abate's, where you would get two bowls of pasta and Grandma would yell at you. You would flirt with the waitress, and she would bring you the Italian coffee. She loved you, and I remember up until the days after you died she asked about you.
Since the last time I saw you, so much has changed. I finally passed my driving test, and now hold a learner's permit. I got a job at the library. Yes, I get paid to read. I can remember you and Grandma taking me to the local town library, where we would get movies and picture books. When I go there now in the summers, I can still picture you in a chair with your ray-bans on. I have those glasses now, and they don't look quite the same on me as they do on you. The biggest news grandpa is that I've decided that I'm going to be a journalist. Those penny notebooks that you bought for me at ShopRite have paid off. I write for the school paper, and it literally is the best thing that I've ever decided to do. I can't wait until I write articles for money. Of course, it will never be work. It's something that I love. I wonder if you remember me writing my silly stories about my stuffed animals. I guess I've come a lot way from those ShopRite notebooks, and writing about the adventures of Wishbone.
I can still picture you the last time I saw you. You looked so small. I remember when you once looked so big, now you just looked like you were minimized. I remember how your once olive skin now had a gray tint to it. I hope that you are healthier in heaven. I hope that you're eating lots of cookies that you were allowed to eat.
I don't think that I've ever said this enough when you're alive, but I love you Grandpa. I miss you a lot, despite the fact that I know that you are no longer in pain. Everyone does. You were the glue to our family. You made Christmas jolly, and kept Grandma's crazy siblings at bay. You made us laugh, and you never once complained when you were in pain. I remember you when you turned 80, and you got a sweatshirt that said I'm 80 today. I remember the birthday when coffee was spilled all over Melissa, and I remember the time that Joe dropped the noki. They've become family stories told. Now, as we move on, I realize that something is missing every time we get together. That's you. I see it in everyone's face, especially Grandma's. I miss you eating your walnuts, and getting yelled at by Grandma for eating too much. I remember you drinking coffee at all hours, and I remember that soup is your favorite meal. I remember my second to last birthday with you. I turned 16, and it was the first time that I really knew that you were never quite the same. You yelled at me for the first time that day, and I will never forget it. Of course, I knew that you didn't know better.
I wish I can give you a gift, but I give you love. You've given it to me for all 19 years of my life. I can't understand why you had to deal with losing your sanity without control. You did everything right. However, you've given me a father. When I was little, I called you Daddy, because you were everything a father should be. I wish you were there for my prom, and when I graduated. I wish you will be able to walk me down the aisle when some dumb bastard decides to marry me. I wish that you'll be able to meet my kids, who will be named Sonny too.
Happy birthday Grandpa. I love you.
Natalie
Dear Grandpa;
Happy 87th birthday! I wish there was some way for me to celebrate it with you being here in the flesh. You know a trip to Abate's, where you would get two bowls of pasta and Grandma would yell at you. You would flirt with the waitress, and she would bring you the Italian coffee. She loved you, and I remember up until the days after you died she asked about you.
Since the last time I saw you, so much has changed. I finally passed my driving test, and now hold a learner's permit. I got a job at the library. Yes, I get paid to read. I can remember you and Grandma taking me to the local town library, where we would get movies and picture books. When I go there now in the summers, I can still picture you in a chair with your ray-bans on. I have those glasses now, and they don't look quite the same on me as they do on you. The biggest news grandpa is that I've decided that I'm going to be a journalist. Those penny notebooks that you bought for me at ShopRite have paid off. I write for the school paper, and it literally is the best thing that I've ever decided to do. I can't wait until I write articles for money. Of course, it will never be work. It's something that I love. I wonder if you remember me writing my silly stories about my stuffed animals. I guess I've come a lot way from those ShopRite notebooks, and writing about the adventures of Wishbone.
I can still picture you the last time I saw you. You looked so small. I remember when you once looked so big, now you just looked like you were minimized. I remember how your once olive skin now had a gray tint to it. I hope that you are healthier in heaven. I hope that you're eating lots of cookies that you were allowed to eat.
I don't think that I've ever said this enough when you're alive, but I love you Grandpa. I miss you a lot, despite the fact that I know that you are no longer in pain. Everyone does. You were the glue to our family. You made Christmas jolly, and kept Grandma's crazy siblings at bay. You made us laugh, and you never once complained when you were in pain. I remember you when you turned 80, and you got a sweatshirt that said I'm 80 today. I remember the birthday when coffee was spilled all over Melissa, and I remember the time that Joe dropped the noki. They've become family stories told. Now, as we move on, I realize that something is missing every time we get together. That's you. I see it in everyone's face, especially Grandma's. I miss you eating your walnuts, and getting yelled at by Grandma for eating too much. I remember you drinking coffee at all hours, and I remember that soup is your favorite meal. I remember my second to last birthday with you. I turned 16, and it was the first time that I really knew that you were never quite the same. You yelled at me for the first time that day, and I will never forget it. Of course, I knew that you didn't know better.
I wish I can give you a gift, but I give you love. You've given it to me for all 19 years of my life. I can't understand why you had to deal with losing your sanity without control. You did everything right. However, you've given me a father. When I was little, I called you Daddy, because you were everything a father should be. I wish you were there for my prom, and when I graduated. I wish you will be able to walk me down the aisle when some dumb bastard decides to marry me. I wish that you'll be able to meet my kids, who will be named Sonny too.
Happy birthday Grandpa. I love you.
Natalie
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