My grandfather wasn’t the world’s greatest guy — he was a huge boozer and a chain smoker.
He was super judgemental, mysoginistic, racist, and an overall miserable dude.
He would go on rants about how the “Jews invented wrapping paper so they could make money at Christmastime,” tell overweight people how offensive they were, and use the n-word on a regular basis.
But he did serve in the military. And my grandmother says that before he went to WWII he was a much different person.
While he didn’t die in service, I would like to take a minute to remember him today.
Today I choose to remember the Grandpa who always smiled when he saw me walk through his door.
Today I remember the Grandpa who, for some reason unknown to me, called all of his grandkids “Charlie.” And he said it like he was from Boston — Heeeyyyy, Chaaaahhhlie.
I don’t know why he did that either, but I always liked it about him.
Today I remember the Grandpa who cried inconsolably in our living room the day we had my baby brother, who was dying from leukemia, baptized at home because he was too sick to go to church.
Thanks Grandpa. Somehwere deep down inside of you there was a kind and compassionate man, and I know those qualities were passed on to and are present in my kids.
All your good parts are still with us.
Love you Grandpa.
Happy Memorial Day.
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