My father once told me, there are only a few people in this life who will love you unconditionally. When you find them, you better hang on to them. And that’s why it hurts so much when you have to let them go.
Today would have been my grandfather’s birthday. I am terrible about remembering dates and numbers, but this one I always remember. Bastille Day, July 14. Grandpa Taylor’s birthday.
Thank you for coming into the world, grandpa. I am grateful for you, and all that you did for our family, and all you taught me.
My grandfather was one of the few people I have ever met about whom I can truly say, he loved me unconditionally.
It’s not like he just let me do whatever I wanted – when I was a kid, he never let me get away with any crap; he called me out when I was being mean to my little sister, for sure, but I never felt that he “judged” me. I never felt that he decided, “oh, Erin is this way,” because of the way I behaved, or looked, or the things I did. If I was doing something unkind, he corrected me. And through it all, he just loved me.
I can see him sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen, with the big round mug of “Black Russian,” which he drank most summer afternoons. He had a picture in his room, a sketch, of Man’o’War, the greatest race horse of all time. I remember studying the picture. To me, it seemed to embody strength, power-in-stillness, and a kind of soulful nobility.
In my mind, these qualities have intermingled with my memories of my grandfather, who also possessed a quiet strength, as well as an unstoppable sense of humor and fun.
In the summer, my grandfather would come out to the driveway of my grandmother’s house with his big stopwatch and have me and my sister race to the neighbor’s house and back, timing my start after my sister’s so that we would tie. This bugged the heck out of me at the time, but it taught me a sense of fairness, and I remember it to this day. After the races, he would retire to the coolness of his living room with big earphones on, hooked to the radio by a long, curly cord, and listen to Beethoven symphonies turned way up loud.
When someone loves you unconditionally, they let you show up exactly as you are. They don’t “decide” how you are, or how you “should” be. There is a comfort and a joy of being-with someone like that, because you feel free to just be yourself. He taught me that when you cross the line and hurt someone else, you need to change something about what you’re doing. Fix it. Forgive. Get back to living and having fun. At your core, you are always lovable.
Today when I think about the things I’m doing, or plan to do, I can ask, what would my grandfather think of all this? What would he say? What would he want for me? Because for me, he holds a standard of honor, a high standard of integrity that I can rely on and trust. Most of all, he would want me to be happy.
I hope that you have someone like that in your life, too.
Grandpa was the kind of person who could fix anything. I remember him working on our family car, my dad’s tractor, all of our old, second-hand farm equipment. It all broke down a lot, year after year. He seemed to have endless patience, and the unshakable belief that no matter how broken down it was, it was never beyond hope. I imagine that, in the war, he was one of those American boys who could fix anything, any broken-down lorry or jeep, and get the thing up and running in no time with some wire, a fee metal scraps, and whatever odds and ends he could find. I’ve seen him do it!
He taught me that no matter how broken something may seem, it still has value.
Thank you, grandpa. I will repay you for the things you taught me about life and love by doing my best to embody them, and by passing them on.
I wish that you could have met my children, because I know you would have loved them unconditionally, the same as you loved me.
I know you would not want me to cry today. I know you’re not really “gone,” but god I miss you sometimes. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being. I’m forever grateful for you.
You’re in my heart, always.
Love,
Erin