Dear Grandpa,

I wanted to write to you so I don’t forget some of my favorite memories of you. I love you so much. You’re the only grandpa I’ve ever known, and you wore that title with flying colors. What a day to go out with a bang – New Year’s Eve. You would have been 98 in February. You lead a full and wonderful life for so very long. Right into your nineties you were vibrant and alert as can be. You golfed and even attended college in your eighties. You never let a day just pass you by; you took control of your days. And you will be missed.

I looked so forward to our family trips to Boise for holidays and school breaks. Your house in Eagle holds dear memories for me, and I will forever think of you in that house. I loved waking up to you, already having been up for hours – even been golfing by then, making pancakes, eggs and “o.j.” for us. I loved the little glasses you served the juice in and always hoped I got one with the U.P. emblem on it. You taught me how to order an egg, “T. old kid, what’ll it be?” you’d say. I think you made me every kind before I found that I liked over easy with the yolk broke, best. You always treated me to whatever I wanted, until that inevitable hour, after nine, when I’d hear, “Oh. Here comes ‘Laine. Better put that away.”

I couldn’t wait for our dates. Nothing was better than, “How ‘bout I take you on a date in the mornin’, T.T.” You truly were, my first date. And a wonderful one at that. You’d pull out those single one dollar bills and hand them out to each of us kids, that right there was excitement enough. Then you’d take us out to the garage and load us into grandma’s Camaro, the best days were when the t-tops were off, and you’d take us to Circle K. Later it was to the barn looking mini mart at the end of the hill, but both were great. I think my favorite things to get were either the candy ring or the candy necklace. In either case you never rushed me, never hurried me along. You just let me stand there and eye every single piece until I finally decided.

Most people where I live call a cookie, a biscuit. No, no, no – I tell them. Haven’t you ever had biscuits and gravy? Well of course they haven’t, and they wouldn’t know to call them B and G, like you do. You always smelled like munchies to me. You know, munchies – Dorito’s, or a handful of peanuts. And at Thanksgiving I’ll always remember your prayer over the family meal “Tak a de fader fur dinna mat.” I was talking to a Norwegian recently, on Thanksgiving in fact, and Samuel told him your Thanksgiving prayer. The man laughed and said, “Something like that.” I laughed and thought of the many, many Thanksgivings we spent together. Including the one where mom and grandma were oogling over some kind of luxurious fabric and under your breath you said something like, “She just pulled out that old piece of crap from her moth balled piles of fabric.” I laughed so hard I spit water all over the table and was sent to my room for the rest of the day. Later, you came to find me and apologize, which of course wasn’t necessary – but sweet just the same.

My favorite Thanksgiving tradition was snuggling on your lap long after the meal was over. You’d rub my belly, and say, “Here’s the potatoes, and here’s the turkey, and here’s the stuffing,” and with a poke to my belly button, “and here’s where the Indian shot you with his arrow.” It still makes me laugh to think about it. I’d love to hear you in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher, your feet shuffling on the linoleum, “Pardon me boys, is that the chanta-nooga choo choo…” And I waited my turn over and over for you to pick me up and sing, “Boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boo – boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boo. Boo, boo, boo, boo, boo – Boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boo.” “Me. Now me. I’m next!”

You taught me to play gin rummy, a skill that still serves me well. We never had much of a garden at my house, so the little gardening that ever happened for me, was at your house. Swiss chard and strawberries. I must have ridden your golf cart for hours and hours – parked right on the astro turf on the back porch. I’ve taught my kids to be a cat owner like you, in other words, just feed the stray cats and enjoy them from the window. You were the first person I knew to have cable T.V., and your cable box still fascinates me. The dial at the end, with the buttons to flip through. You were predictable with an afternoon nap, and to bed by eight. I loved peaking in your room and seeing your big tall mirror and your ‘old school’ spring loaded, hand held exercise equipment. You always made sure to take such great care of yourself. The cousins and I played ‘secretary’ forever at your beautiful desk in the basement. Your typewriter with Union Pacific pads of papers and pencils galore kept us busy for hours.

I don’t think you ever once raised your voice to me, or got mad in any way. You were so easy going and full of love for all of us grandchildren. I know I wasn’t as close to you as many of the grandchildren that lived close. But I never felt any less loved. Our relationship was a simple one, I knew you loved me; and that’s all that mattered. I will always think of you as far younger than your age. I think I looked through your things from High School and your time at U.P. a million times down in the basement. You were as handsome as can be. Recently we took our family to Normandy France, and I thought of you, and so many like you gave up so much and were so brave. Thank you. You truly are the last of the greatest generation. I feel blessed to have had you in my life, to have been your granddaughter, to have been loved by you, to have felt trust in you, and to have been encouraged by you. You have snuggled my own children now for the past few years. They love you and are so sad to see you go. You welcomed Peter into our family as one of your own, with you being the only grandfather he’s ever known as well. Thank you.

Grandpa, I love you. I have missed you now for several years as you haven’t been able to be the same old George. I said goodbye to you this summer when we visited. I sat in the car and cried afterwards, I knew that would be the last time I would see you in this life. When my dad called to tell me you went home, I said “Hooray!” I am SO happy for you. I know you wouldn’t have wanted to live in this life the way you did at the end. I can just see you now, with all of your siblings, parents and friends – looking at handsome as you did in 1945, “Well George, you sure were a fighter. Think you hung on long enough? Sheesh, what were you waiting for? 2012 and the end of the world or something? Wasn’t nearly 98 years enough for you? Welcome home, glad you finally made it!” And I’m glad you finally made it too. You will be missed greatly, but I know you are so much better off in Heaven. When I was young, I was nervous to think that when I die, if it’s true that a close relative meets you, I didn’t know any. I didn’t know my grandpa Gregson, how would I recognize him? But I’d know you anywhere. I can’t wait to see you again. So until then, know that I love you and will miss you.

Much love,

T.T. Magee

*Being overseas, I don't have any pictures with me. Go here if you want to see a few pictures of my grandpa.