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My wife Denise and I just found out we are going to be grandparents this summer. This has been the best Thanksgiving gift we could have ever received. GOD is great and we can’t wait to see the new little blessing that is on the way.
This is our first one on both sides of the family so I am sure the little one will get an avalanche of spoiling. I am not quite sure I can wait until summertime though! There are so many things running through my mind about what I want to tell, teach, and do with our new grand baby.
Whether it’s a girl, or whether it’s a boy it makes no difference to me. We are supposed to have some sort of a reveal party where that information, I guess is revealed? Something about blue or pink balloons popping out of a box. I know GOD has great things planned for this little one!
Someone asked me what I want to be called? I don’t know, but I have a few months to think about that one. I suppose I’ll be called whatever the grand baby ends up calling me. They say the grand babies end up calling the grand parents whatever the first one starts calling them. That’s what happened with our daughter too. Whatever happens, is fine with me.
We are looking forward to this new adventure in our lives. I am sure it will be a great ride!
I recently visited my cousin in central Oklahoma over the weekend. While I was there she gave me this old photo. This is a photo of my Grandpa Smith who worked for a company in Arkansas City, Kansas. I never met him and this is the only photo I have ever even seen of him. Dad never knew him very well since he died when he was only 5 years old.
I wonder what he would have been like? I wonder what he would have told me about life and the things that are really important? I am sure I would have learned a few things from him about how it was in his day. I know things have certainly changed since his time.
How about you? Do you have any favorite stories of your own grandpa that you might want to share here. I wish I had some to tell about my Grandpa Smith but I never knew him…
You ask me why I sit and stare. Don’t you know I’m not really here? I left a long time ago. Can’t you see? I left the day she left me. I’m not really here. I’m living in those moments we had together. Nothing will ever be the same.
I loved holding your soft hand. No one will ever understand. I’m not really here. I loved the sound of your gentle voice and to hear you whisper that you loved me. I touch my tongue to your finger dipped in chocolate brownie mix. It tastes sweet just like you. I feel your breath on my shoulders as we cuddle close in bed.
I see the joy in your eyes and the smile that breaks out across your face when your first grandchild comes running to you and throws out her arms for you to pick her up. I see your radiant smile and your eyes beaming with the light coming from deep inside your soul. I smell the roses in your garden. They remind me of you. I see you kneeling on the grass nearby as you cast a glance my way. You smile and nod and continue on.
You pour me a cup of hot coffee and hand me a newspaper in the morning. I somehow know everything is going to be alright. Before I go off to work each day we pray. We hug each other and kiss each other on the cheek, and then wave goodbye.
I’m not here. Can’t you see? You asked me to be your husband fifty years ago. And now you’ve gone on ahead. I’m not here. Can’t you see. I left five years ago, the day you died. I’ve tried and tried to understand.
You ask me why I sit and stare. Don’t you know? I’m not really here.