There have been few people in my life who have remained close to my heart through the years. One such person was my mother’s father, Pa.

Pa and I shared a very special bond; the loss of a child. In 2000 I lost my first born child to SIDS and in 2001, he lost his eldest daughter, my mother. That bond created by events in our lives left a lasting impression in my life.

I began moving on with my life, which also allowed the opportunity to live in various cities in the Western US. When the opportunity would arise for my visits home, one of the first people I would see was Pa.

Our conversations weren’t often deep. We would discuss his health, the weather, current events and my life. He was always willing to listen to what I had to say and offered much knowledge on life from the perspective of an individual who served in WWII, lived through the great depression and maintained one love in his life – no matter how many times they married and divorced through the years.

I had the opportunity a few years back to move back to my home-town, briefly. I took the option and decided I would cherish each moment. I arrived the day before having to start my first shift in that restaurant.

Prior to heading into work, I made a special stop at the nursing home where Pa resided. I found him in his electric wheel chair in the cafeteria/activity room. His sight had deteriorated greatly since the last time that I saw him, but he recognized my voice and my face as I moved closer. His eyes lit up in a way I never could have imagined.

I sat and began speaking with him about why I was there and happenings in my life. He took my hand as I was preparing to leave for work that day and with tears in his eyes thanked me for stopping by. I had never seen the man shed a tear in my life. I asked what was wrong and he began speaking about his family never visiting and believing that he was a forgotten soul.

It was about that time I began crying. This man whom I’ve loved so deeply throughout my life felt as though he meant nothing. I made a point to stop by as often as time allowed during those months. It didn’t take much time before his fall occurred, leading to his final deterioration and death.

My grandfather passed February 21, 2006. I finished my time in Evanston a few weeks later.  The short time I was there offered some amazing lessons on life and living, the greatest being the gift of time.