I had one. Well,
technically I had two of course, but one
died before I was
born. Whats sad is that of the two, the one who
died is the one I knew better.
The one who was still
alive during my
lifetime never really seemed to be completely
there. My
memories of him seem to consist of him sitting in a chair whenever my family came to visit him and my
grandma. He died when I was in
second grade, and I don't really feel as if I ever knew him. I
wish I did.
My other grandfather, the one that
died years before I was
born, was
cool. I feel as if I know him because of the vast amount of stories about him. He fought in
World War II, in
Alaska during the brief invasion of the
Aleutian Islands. The best thing about him is what he did when my
parents got
married. My
parents wanted to get
married in my mother's
hometown, but it had no
town hall for the reception. So my grandfather built one. It is still the town's hall today. What a way for a
father to show love for his
daughter.
I never really knew either of my grandfathers, or any of my
grandparents for that matter. I hope my
children, if I am ever a
father, know theirs better than I knew mine.