I remember the times when we went to your house every Sunday after church. I love everything about that place. You guys, the home cooked meals, fresh home made jams and jellies on a warm piece of homemade bread, and the pond with the catfish that stung me when we went fishing, even though that hurt it is kinda fun to recall.


I remember how Grandma used to always mix peanut butter and jelly or honey and keep the mixture in the fridge for a snack spread.


I remember cold winters spent playing in the snow then coming in and Grandma would have hot chocolate and donuts waiting for us.


I remember hot summer days with the ice cream cones. I remember fresh home made pie. I remember drinking water from the garden hose, and living at your house.


I remember the beautiful blue farm house. I remember sitting in the easy chair with Papa and eating Cheetos, cashews, and pop corn while we watched old westerns. I remember your favorite Westerns had John Wayne in them.


I remember when Papa and Uncle Pete pulled money “out” of my ear and how I felt rich because the pennies overflowed from my small hands. I remember you and your denchers Papa and how you would make them chatter, and jut out at me.



I also remember my mom telling me about the time when I was a baby and was fighting so hard not to fall asleep. Then she gave me to grandma and Grandma taking me into her arms and I fell asleep almost instantly.


You made me feel awestruck at everything you did for me.


When I think of you I picture denchers, your blue house, the lake, the windmill, the dogs, grandma in the kitchen cooking, Papa’s easy chair, and Papa’s big shirts that turned into pajamas for us girls because we would “forget our pajamas”, the attic, that old vacuum, and most importantly I picture you.


And then I remember everything changed and went down hill. How Papa got cancer and got so weak and Grandma got sick with Alzheimer’s and couldn’t remember my name. I remember how the twinkle in your eye that I had learned to love was gone so suddenly. I remember how I felt after those visits with you and how let down and awful I felt. And then I remember the funeral.


Now that you’re gone I often think about you and wish you were here. I often wonder if you are my angel secretary up there looking down at me and taking notes on my life.

I miss you and I always will…
I love you…
Always…