Grandpa Hank

Every year around Easter I remember that my grandpa Hank died on Easter Sunday. My grandmother, who never married him, but allowed him to be a big part of our lives, declared," Leave it to Hank to do something so dramatic as to die on Easter!" I never have decided if that was her way of faulting him for the timing, or if she really saw an irony in his dying on the day we celebrate the resurrection. 

Doesn't really matter.

This year I remembered again, but couldn't remember the actual date, because Easter is different every year.  I don't know why it mattered, and I guess it didn't a whole lot, because I have a place to look, and didn't. LoL. Until tonight. 

While making banana bread, I noticed a memorial magnet my mother made and sent to me after he died. It has a pictue of me and him (he was one of my favorites... I had a surplus of grandparents, so blessed). I took a moment and straightened it. It is stuck to our washer/dryer, and gets titled occasionally. Anyway, as I fixed it I noticed the date: 22 years and 1 month ago today.

I miss him like he just passed away. He was a gentle man. He was the only person who would take me to burger king (he liked a whopper Jr., no onion, and a Dr. Pepper, easy on the ice-- before self-serve soda was a thing). He gave me his coffee when we would visit him, I blame him for my liking my coffee room temperature with plenty of cream and sugar. ☺

He took us to church every time we visited him or my grandma. She was glad for him to take us, so she wouldn't have to. I have no idea if he went to church regularly, or really what he believed. I know he was a recovering alcoholic, and I never saw or heard of him taking a drink in all the 22 years I knew him. My grandmother even had an alcohol free reception at her wedding because grandpa Hank was invited. 

He'd had a hard life, Korea and WWII, and a rough divorce (before meeting my grandmother). I honestly believe PTSD is more accurate diagnosis than the schizophrenia he was diagnosed with. (The reason grandma wouldn't marry him), but PTSD wasn't a thing then.  

He taught me things I've never used: billiards, black jack, cribbage...

He gave me my first boombox, and grandma quickly went and got me a bigger, better one. LoL

He liked Shasta sodas, and always watered down his cranberry juice (I do too, thanks to him!)

I think he might be the first person who didn't treat me like I was a bother. He acted like he enjoyed my company, appreciated being the default recipient of the father's day gifts I made at school and church, and he was always happy to buy dosey does girl scout cookies every year...

I miss him.