Panda Entry 001: Grandpa Jim

I don’t know if it’s just because of this horrible month or what but it always seems I end up writing some sort of rant/drabble piece about this subject. I hate September. It holds horrible memories as I’m sure whoever knows me and is reading this can recall.

The other day I was doing dishes, focusing on scrubbing off the evil chunks of food off of bowls when a memory switched on and I had to stop what I was doing for a moment. At first I smiled because it was just so silly, now that I’m older and think back on it. I remember being about 5 or 6…maybe even 7 and I got to take home the class squishy ball for the weekend. Our teacher allowed this to happen every Friday and it was my turn. I was so excited about it; it was this clear ball with blue liquid and then another ball inside—a globe. Now as I’m sure you all know—I hope—I had two little brothers who pretty much destroy everything awesome that I get.

Long story short they poked a hole in the ball and I was just livid as well as upset over it. My teacher, who I liked a lot, had trusted me with it and they broke it! I ended up running down the stairs of my grandparent’s house and going straight to my grandpa. I was so upset about it that I actually started to cry. My grandpa—who this blog is about—took it and looked it over, cleaned it then put it on the counter where he was standing. I frowned and wondered why he did that. He then randomly said we were going to the store. To cut this up a bit my awesome gramps drove us around looking for something similar so that I wouldn’t get in trouble Monday. The ball might not have seemed that important but it was part of this game we played during class, I can’t even remember what that was.

I don’t really know why I remember this particular thing but it brought on a bunch more memories and thoughts that led to me missing him all over again. I’m sure that if my family members ever read this they’ll have similar stories about him that make them smile. I just hope that he stays alive in our hearts because I can’t imagine him never existing.

This is what’s on my mind currently and I guess its easier to post it somewhere that I know no one really reads.

Tuesday it’ll be eight years since he passed and I had always thought it would get easier, maybe the things that remind me of him wouldn’t still sting but I guess it’s a process. I’m not lapsing into any sort of depression over it, just makes my heart a little heavy remembering everything.

I think that’s enough for now, maybe I’ll write another one for Tuesday.

-Panda

 Me and Gramps