in memory of my grandpa, Ken

For a long time, my grandparents would stand in the kitchen window of their house and wave goodbye whenever I was pulling out of their driveway. My grandpa waved his final goodbye peacefully and in his sleep on Wednesday night at the age of 97.

My grandparents lived in the same town as me my whole life, their somewhat hideously mint green and yellow house being across the street from the gas station my dad owned when I was a kid. So I spent a lot of time with them during the day when I was little, and during non school hours as I got older. All of my birthdays were celebrated at their house. One of the hardest things about moving across the country when I got married was leaving behind the ability to see my grandparents frequently, and being able to care for them. They spent a lot of time caring for me.

My grandpa never really grew up. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't one of those eternal man-children who shirked responsibility. He was a military man, served in India, got malaria, and always took care of his family and home, doing yard work and home repair well into old age. But in his off time he was like a little kid - making faces, pulling pranks, relishing in dessert. You could count on grandpa to put a little ham in all the family pictures. 

One of his favorite pastimes in his old age was to stink up an aisle in the grocery store and then shuffle off into the distance with his walker so he could watch people's faces as they walked through his putrid cloud. I talked him into taking his dentures out and scaring the crap out of some trick or treaters one year. I'll miss his mischievous, conspiratorial snicker.

One thing I remember is this piece of paper that he had  taped up on the work bench in his immaculately kept garage. It had a picture of Calvin on it and a list of names. The caption was something like "Top 10 people who really piss me off". I'm disappointed that I can't remember the list, but I was so young that I didn't even know who most of the people on it were. I think there was at least one Clinton. It used to fascinate me when I was little as I played in their garage while Gramps worked on something or Grandma did the laundry. Over time the sun bleached it out and faded the names away. 

My grandpa and I shared a love of chocolate, and he was always generous with me when I asked for chocolate from his candy dish. There was always a stock of treats for me in their house long after they babysat me. After lunch, we both got the same hungry look on our faces as we plucked a few cookies from this old reel film tin my grandma kept them in, wrapped in wax paper. During holidays we could always anticipate Grandpa's excitement over the dessert. Once it came out after the meal, he would get this grin on his face as though the thing he had been waiting for had finally arrived. He and my dad would get their pieces of cake/pie first  and argue over whose was bigger.

He played footsies with me at the table while my grandma sat prim and proper. Though I think it was probably closer to him enduring me kicking him under the table..... And at breakfast he always used a heinous amount of jelly on one piece of toast.  We would listen to Paul Harvey at lunch time. He would always ask me if I was going to use a napkin, which of course I never would when my shirt sleeve worked just fine.

When I was little, but not so little that it could have been comfortable for him, he would let me join him for his afternoon nap in his chair. I would drape myself over him and we would snooze together. Later, he would turn on the TV and gripe, curse, and grumble over whatever sport was on. Baseball always pissed him off. His chair in the dining room was strategically placed so that he could continue being angered by whatever game was on. Not so long ago he developed an interesting affection for women's beach volleyball...  

He kept the best looking patch of ivy ever in his yard, wading through that thing to keep it level and tamed. It never looked the same after he broke his hip one day taking out the recycling bin. That incident spelled the end of his active lifestyle. 

My grandpa would let me follow him into his little bathroom to watch him shave and put on his aftershave. The bathroom was connected to my grandparent's bedroom, which they both slept in, sharing a bed until very recently. 

When he got really old he would routinely have trouble with the damn cordless phone, putting the wrong end to his ear and then yelling for my grandma to help him. 

The first time he saw my Grandma he knew he was going to marry her, and told his coworker right then.

I always knew he loved me by the way he smiled at me.