Daily Archives: August 12, 2011


When I thought about what to blog about today I couldn’t wrap my mind around anything besides the death of my father-in-law on August 3rd.  I’ve always thought of blogging as a way for people to connect and get to know each other through what they write in their posts.  Today I wanted to say just a few words about Dick a.k.a. Grampa.

It’s my way of remembering him in my own words, put out there on the internet for anyone to read – a special way of paying tribute to Dick in a manner that smashes through the silent boundaries of my personal life and blasts his name and picture into the social universe.

At my age I’ve met my share of men and women who’ve touched my life.  I remember some of them with  fondness because of how they treated me, how they made me feel special.  I meant something to them.  I wasn’t just another person who passed through their lives like a tiny blip on their radar screen.  My father-in-law was one of those people.

Of course, I didn’t love him just because I knew he loved me.  Even if I wasn’t his daughter-in-law, this man was special.  He was different than other people I’d met.  I actually got to know him as person.  I was able to spend almost 25 years around someone who lived to be 91 years old.

There are very few people who are truly kind.  He was one of them.  There are few people who never speak ill of others.  He was one of them.  Few people always smile when they see you, their eyes lighting up when you enter the room to greet them.  He was one of them.  Few blow kisses to you across the room when saying goodbye.  He did.  Few remember to ask how your horse is doing.  He did.  Few people at his age recall that your son plays basketball, that your daughter sells Girl Scout cookies.  He did.  Few would sit on the couch and let your two huge labrador retrievers lick your face while you’re trying to watch a baseball game.  He did.

It’s the conglomeration of little things that made Dick a big part of my life.  He didn’t have to do anything grandiose to capture my heart.  He lived his life so huge every day by being who he was that when I look at how he influenced my universe, he was like a sunbeam – one that still shines inside my heart even though his body is no longer with us.

Dick, I love you.  And, believe it or not, I can still feel that you love me.  Thank you for being a part of my life, Grampa.  I’ll always remember you.

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