Eulogy: A letter to my grampa

I wrote this after my grampa died. I was 20. My best friend (amelia), her sister Rosie read this at their service. (my gramma and grampa died within a week of eachother-- yes, that's real love-- and so we had their service together).

I can't believe she read it. It meant the world to me...and she was so young...so brave. Thank you Rosalie, you may never know how much your courage meant to me.

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You’ve been my hero, my love, and my best friend. All of that in an 88-year man, with a big round belly. Who knew I’d fall in love with such a character?

Without you these past 4 months, a wave of loneliness has swept over me. I feel incomplete. You’ve been so much to me.

You’ve been the father I never had, you’ve been the hero I’ve always admired, and you’ve been the best friend that I’ve always needed.

I hope you know how much I love you.

I loved fishing with you, except for the time I fell through the hole in the ice.

I loved bowling with you at the student center, even though I’d always quit after half a game and make a run for the snack bar.

I loved sitting on your lap while we watched football. I got too big to sit on your lap, but we didn’t care, I’d squish you anyway.

I loved playing catch with you in the front yard, you jumping in the air after my wild throws, and chasing after balls headed to the neighbors yard.

I didn’t so much love when you made me stand outside on the deck, one cold winter night, because I didn’t finish my vegetables at dinner. You probably forgot about that by now. I didn’t.

I loved that you would come to my hockey games, and lay out the blanket for grandma and you to sit on. I could never focus on games when you were there, because I was always so happy and proud you were in the stands. Sometimes you’d clap when the other team scored. You were so nice.

I loved helping you get dressed at 7am this summer…but loved it more when you were still sleeping and I’d push your legs over and climb in bed with you.

I loved your big belly…sorry I always joked about you swallowing a bowling ball.

I loved that you showed me how to artificially inseminate a chicken, long before I knew what insemination was.

I loved yours and Kirk’s panicked reaction when I got carsick on the way to Canada. Y’all had no idea how to help the sick 10 year old Indian in the back seat.

I loved it this summer, when I asked you what your favorite music was, and you said “hip hop”.

I loved that I was your sweetie and you were my dude.

I loved holding your hand. I’d do anything to hold your fat, old, dry hands again.

I loved that you’d call me a smart ass, but never held it against me.

I loved that you were the “ladies man” of the nursing home. That’s quite the honor.

I loved that we shared clothes…well, that you let me take all your sweaters and button up shirts.

I loved your “women want me, fish fear me” shirt. I wear it when I miss you.

I loved that you promised me a jeep wrangler when I graduated college.

We both knew I wouldn’t graduate college in your lifetime.

I loved when I’d try to drink whisky and eat dry burnt toast with you, but couldn’t stomach it. You’d laugh, I’d grimace.

I loved that funny smell you always had. Old man smell.

I loved saying “stay out of trouble” when I’d leave the nursing home, and you’d sit there with a huge grin on your face because we both knew the kinds of trouble you could get into.

I miss you Grandpa. And I love you, so much. You mean the world and beyond to me.

I will never forget you, the love of my life, my super hero, my best friend.


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It's hard for me to read this, and know it's been almost 6 years since my grampa died. It still feels like yesterday. He was the one person who understood me. He was my love.

Without him, i feel lost....yet, without him, I am inspired, to take it one step further. I want to make him proud.

missing (him)

I went to the NCAA (women's) frozen four championship last weekend. Duluth was playing Cornell. At first, I decided to cheer for Duluth, because I'd like to see a Minnesota team win. Not long after this decision was made, I changed my mind, because Cornell was undoubtedly outplaying the Bulldogs.

There was a man, an old man, cheering for the Big Red (Cornell). He reminded me a lot of my grampa, in that he was just this cute old man, with a sign (that read "Go Big Red"), and he'd stand up and cheer and sit down and cheer. He was so sweet, and it reminded me of when my gramma and grampa used to come to my hockey games, and cheer me on.

I've been missing my grampa like mad the last few days, and last night, when I was in bed, I realized that seeing this old dude at the hockey game is what brought back all these (positive) memories of my grampa.

I'm close to tears as I write this, and have been close to tears several times the last few days. I don't know if what I'm feeling is grief, or if it's just loneliness. I guess I don't care what it's called. I just miss my grampa. I miss him coming to my hockey games, and cheering me on, just like the old dude did this weekend. I miss watching football games with him. Fishing season is just around the corner, and I already miss fishing with him.

I'm wearing his old pajama shirt right now, I slept in it last night. It's striped, and made of worn out cotton. There is a blue pocket that was sewn on it (likely by my gramma). After my grampa died, I took a bunch of his clothes. I remember there were tissues and cough drops in all the pockets of his jammy shirts.


I know these feelings of sadness and loneliness will pass. They always do. And really, it's not so bad to miss him. I'm just reminded of all the fun we had, and all the love we had, and all the love I still do have for him. It's a pleasant reminder, even though it makes me cry sometimes.