I had intended my next blog post to be all about Madrona and the fun I had there but instead I find myself posting about my personal life instead.

Tonight I found my Grandpa died this morning. He was the last of my grandparents and I only ever knew 2 of them.

I wish I could say that we shared wonderful memories and that I will always remember him with love in my heart but I’m not sure I can do that. It wasn’t that he was a bad person (at least never to me) and in fact I do have fond memories of the few times we were in each others company. Growing up on the other side of the world from my Dad’s family I honestly never got to know them. I first spent time with them when I was 3 and didn’t see them again until I was almost 7. It wasn’t until I was almost 13 before I started going to Boise for regular summer visits and even that only happened for 3 years. It had been over 10 years since I last saw him because I always kept saying “one day”.

I think I’m filled more with regret than sadness. I regret that I never got to really know him, to understand the man beyond the few stories he shared of his truck driving days, his love of fishing and of course his love of beer. Part of me thinks that maybe it is better that I never got the chance to find out that maybe he wasn’t the greatest person in the world.

I’m not sure how much of what I am feeling is true sadness at his passing or maybe it is guilt that I don’t feel the loss more keenly. I keep telling myself I should be sad and that it is wrong that it doesn’t affect me more. I’m sitting here crying but I can’t for the life of me figure out if it is for him or myself. The fact that I wonder this of course makes it worse.

The relationship I have with my Dad’s family is an odd one, I feel no connection to them and while at times this bothers me I have to be honest and admit that they rarely cross my mind. I just don’t know them, we share blood and a name but not much else.

There is a part of me that tells me that I should have done more to be part of his family, that I should have treasured the only 2 grandparents I’ve ever known and yet after my grandmother died my freshman year in college I never made that effort. I think that is what I regret the most now. I had the opportunities to be part of that family and I never took the first step.

I feel I should remember him by talking about all the great things we did together but I find myself at a loss to come up with anything. He did used to let me sit in his recliner when we visited even though no one else was supposed to sit there. He would let me join him on his Monday morning walks to the rec center for coffee and donuts with the other folks in the retirement park. I wish I could say I remember more and I just hate that I can’t.

I’m not sure what all will be happening with any funeral stuff, whether there will be anyone going from Seattle or not. My Aunt and her husband were with him when he passed so I hope that gave him comfort. The fact that they were with him and none of us knew what was happening kind of explains the family relationship. Anyway I don’t want to dwell on that.

Tonight I think I will spend some time trying to find out which box I packed my Snoboy in. It was a small toy that he gave me when I was 7, a mascot for a food service company he used to drive for. It seems so pathetic that a corporate mascot is the only personal item I have from him but it is all I have.