Throughout the entirety of my life, I’ve only grown up with ¾ of a set of grandparents. Two grandmas and one grandpa. The missing ¼ has always been a question to me. At some point he existed in our timeline, but who was he? What did he do? Do I look like him? Do we laugh the same? Every time I would ask vague questions about him to my family they would grow angry and tell me to leave. But I have only one grandfather and for the mystery I grew for the other, the more I wanted to learn about the one here with me.
My grandpa was troubled. He spent his life in and out of jail fighting against the world. He was a man that many feared. He would fight and wouldn’t have a care for the consequences. A drunk, a criminal, and a man with no sense of good in his life, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize him.
Reality struck when the amount of alcohol consumption left him hospitalized, ruining his stomach lining. He was told he was going to die, but my grandpa promised himself that if he was able to overcome this tragedy that he would be a good man and live a good life. This promise has forever been fulfilled.
I’ve always known my grandpa as the kindest man in the world. He would do anything for his family and friends. He always gives me words of wisdom when I feel pain and always makes sure to tell me that he loves me whenever he leaves. Every softball game you can see a man with a white hair and an A’s hat in the crowd cheering on his granddaughter, proud because of all the times he took me out to practice. He is truly the core of our family and radiates good energy.
For the amount of love unaccounted for the missing piece of my grandparents, my grandpa triples it. He is the inspiration of my life. I am the luckiest person ever to have him to look up to.
349