Memories

Today is not the day, however with it looming in the near future it is hard not to think about it.

October 12 is the third anniversary of my Grandpa's death. Recently there have been those "remember how" or "remember when" conversations and memories that pop into my mind every once in a while. Here are some of them.

Grandpa always used to say,"I have a wish, and allll my wishes come true", then he would ask you for something - another cup of coffee, a bite of something you were eatting or grabbing his cigarettes out of the droor.

Dairy Queen and A & W. One of those two places was a favourite to stop at during some point of our visit. When we moved to Abbotsford, it became a tradition to stop at the Dairy Queen in Mission on the way back to our house.

He used to come visit us after school on Fridays. He would bring us either a pack of Pogs or a Slammer. Sometimes some change, then Matt began to request bills. :D

Walking up to the creek by their house and making a dam. I specifically remember one time. It was winter and my 16th birthday was approaching. We were at the creek doing our best to dam it, like we'd done for years. Grandpa said "Shell, come sit on my knee." I sat on my Grandpa's knee always, didn't matter how big I'd gotten. He told me how he couldn't believe I was going to be 16 and how he remembered the day I was born and how he waited hours in that waiting room for me to come.

Sitting on the ride on mower, or whichever piece of farm equiptment it was, and learning to drive.

Riding Blackie and Fritz, the horses. Feeding them Alfalfa and apples.

Sleeping on the living room floor, waking up when Grandpa got up to go to work to have toast in our housecoats.

Playing Scattergories over and over.

As a little girl going to the dump and to the Butcher Shop.

I remember telling him I was going to my first highschool dance. He gave me lessons. I remember standing on the tops of his feet and learning to dance, he was so smooth. Promising him a dance at my wedding one day.

When we lived next door in a duplex. We'd be sitting at the breakfast table on our side and we'd knock on the wall to him and Grandma next door. Same as when we were in the bathtub.

Being taught words and phrases such as "Hot Damn Grandma these are good pancakes!" or calling the little pancake batter droppings "Little Farts". Calling people a Dirtbag, and saying to my aunts while holding a hose "Come here little girl, I've got a cookie for you."

Watching Benny and Joon over and over. Dancing around the living room like maniacs to "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers.

Playing HECK. Our family has this wierd obsession with scaring each other. As kids and even older we would play this game. I would share a room with Grandma, and Matt with Grandpa. The point of the game was to see who could scare who the best. This would happen by creeping around the upstairs and sneaking up on the other people. We would tease our hair, place dark clothes over ourselves, take out dentures...it was so much fun.

Another time when we lived next to my grandparents was Matt and I would be playing outside and we would hear the ice cream truck coming. The world literally stopped (yeah, those times you thought you were aboutt to slide off Earth. It was just the ice cream truck circling our neighbourhood.) We would look at each other then run as fast as we could, for fear of missing the truck, yelling "GRANDPA! WE NEED DOUGH!" Then we would be bouncing on the spot waiting for him to fish some "dough" out of his wallet. If he wasn't home, we knew the supply was in the top right hand droor of the hutch.

Pens! My Grandpa had so many pens, I've never seen so many! He had this little wooden thing with these tiny droors. In most of them were pens. He got them from clients, mostly. Although he had a few good ones too. Often we would get to pick out a favourite pen. It sounds funny, but this was a trait. I remember just before we got married I was making a list with the last pen he gave me. It ran out then, I remember that was a huge moment for me. It felt like he had run out. I had such an attachement between that pen and him.

Bon fires. Remember the bon fires we would have Matt? It didn't matter if it was the dead of winter, Matt and I would want a bon fire. We would start them in time to have hot dogs for dinner and we would sit out there for HOURS. We would laugh, play silly games, collect cedar to throw on and hear the crackle. I still remember the tray we used to hold the condiments.

His nicknames! Mine was Button, Matt was Buzz or Buzzer (as he is still fondly known), Smiley (Samuel), Scooter (Liam), Princess (Adelai), and Slick is Ethan. Many people at his funeral had to introduce themselves to us and our family by their nickname he gave them because we didn't know who they were by their real name.

When we would see my grandparents, Grandpa would stick his hand in his pockets and take out the change. Then he would hold open his hand just long enough for us to get a good look at it. Then we would have to try and guess how much was there. We had to be within a certain amount, the winner kept it. The loser always got another try. :D

This one time we were spending the night at the farm (this happened about every second weekend) and Matt ended up getting really sick. Grandma went to drive Matthew home and it was just Grandpa and I sitting by the fire. I was sitting in his knee, it was dark and windy. We were pretty quiet, just watching the big trees sway and listening to the wind howl through them. It was so special that night, just my Grandpa and me in the silence of the night. I was scared of the dark, but I didn't feel afraid because my he was large and protective and I knew nothing could hurt me.

It is still so hard to believe he isn't hear anymore.To hug him and him tell me I smell good, or hear his jokes, get his forwarded emails, and rest my head on his tummy while watching a movie.There are such specific memories. I remember he smelled like Clorets, I can picture exactly how his fingernails and hands looked. I know how far apart his eyes were, the shape of his face and the way his mouth moved when he talked. The slippers he wore, his gait when he walked, which side of the bed he slept on and what his watch looked like. The sight of that same old watch with the crack in the glass after the accident was so disturbing. I remember how he danced, the head dance, which I find myself doing every so often. I hope I never lose these memories.