I will think of you each time I eat a tomato, and I will laugh each time I have to fight the urge to pick an orange tomato instead of just waiting until it is red and ready. I didn’t realize until I had my own tomato plant that we were so similar. Some people would call it impatient, but I like to think of it as enthusiastic. :-)
I will think of you every time I see a coin in the sand and picture you walking around the baseball diamond of my high school with your ear phones and metal detector. I will remember each time you proudly showed me your treasures and offered me any ring I wished.
I will remember your robe and house shoes and your white under shirts and blue canvas shoes. I will remember when you taught me to make sparks out of the light sockets and Wint-o-green Lifesavers, and to spit watermelon seeds across the kitchen floor. I will remember how you thought I was too young to watch videos on MTV and to this day, I still feel a little shame. :-)
I will remember learning to waltz while standing on your feet. I can still hear you say, “down, up, up” and I can still feel your lead on my back. I will remember being the most proud granddaughter to ever participate in the Mulvane Old Settlers Day street dance because I could watch you and Grandma steal the show. I truly believed my Grandpa was Mulvane’s Patrick Swayze, and I was proud.
Without you here, I am sad. I do not regret, nor do I feel I was cheated. I learned from you, and I laughed with you, and I have no doubts that you knew how important you were to me. And while I know I was not cheated, I am sad that my children will not know of your “wrinklies” or the Tickle Bug. I am sad you will not be able to sing the song about the Three Little Fishies or the Ragtime Gal for them. I am sad they will not sit on your lap while you play the organ, and I am sad they will not learn to dance from you.
And while I will certainly not be as good as you, I can promise to raise my children in a house where we waltz. I will pester them with the Tickle Bug, and I will make them eat tomatoes.
Thank you for babysitting me when I was sick. Thank you for never making me eat stuffed peppers for lunch and for making me macaroni and cheese instead. Thank you for reading the paper I wrote on John Smith in 6th grade and believing that I would one day write a book. Thank you for teaching me that “radical” was more of a political term than a reference of “cool”. Thank you for letting us live with you when times were tough. Thank you for finding your way to Tallahassee to dance with me at my wedding, and finally, thank you for taking such good care of my Grandma. You will be missed every single day. I love you.
