Dear Grandpa

Dear Grandpa,

 I love you more than I can ever say, and I wish I had said it more often.

I remember being little and thinking you were the tallest man in the world. Even after diabetes took both of your legs, that didn't change. 

I remember that summer Jeremy and I stayed with you and Grandma in Garden Valley for a week and you taught us how to shoot a gun, even though I was only 7 or 8. I remember how you got tired of us asking, "are we there yet?" on the way home so you taught us about mile markers and we counted every single one between Garden Valley and Spokane. I'm not sure which was more annoying.

I remember having imaginary tea parties with Grandma and begging you to join us. And you would. But you didn't want "any damn tea" so you would make us give you "beer" with your crumpets. I still have that tea set and when I see it I think of Grandma, but I also think of you. Every time. 

I remember when we would play cards, when I was younger you got impatient that I couldn't shuffle when it was my turn, so you would do it for me. Before one family reunion I spent hours learning how to shuffle. When it came my turn, I practically shoved the deck of cards in your face but you still didn't notice. Until mom told you that I had learned to shuffle for you and you gave me the biggest smile. I'll never forget that smile, Grandpa. I'm sorry that sometimes I got annoyed that for the last few years all you could play was knock. I'd give anything to have another game of knock with you Papa.

You taught me how to drive a four wheeler.

I remember threats of being "thumped" if we weren't quiet, and of getting a shot of insulin if we watched you get yours, so we would peek around the corners at night and run away screaming and giggling once you caught us.

I remember the summer I was 19, you decided it was unacceptable for someone that old to have never seen Titanic. I think the nude part scarred me forever, but I am grateful for the time we spent together, regardless. 

And oh, those Christmases together! The time we had to barbecue the turkey because the power went out. The time we got snowed in and you had to snowblow off the roof.

I'll cherish every picture of us together, Grandpa. Forever.

I have the camera you used during the Korean war, and I'm learning how to use it. Your initials are carved into the bottom of the case. That will always be one of my dearest treasures. 

I'm glad you're not sick or in pain any more, but I miss you so much! I love you, Papa. I'm glad I got to see you one last time and to say goodbye, but I wish I hadn't had to. I can't wait to be with you again one day. 

Love, Hailee