Going to miss you, grandpa.

Going to miss you, grandpa.

For the past few days, all I've been able to think about about are all of the times you've been present. For my highest points, my lowest, and everything in between.

I think back to all of the times I was your partner in crime riding through the southside of Chicago. Whether it was to visit your friend and fellow mechanic Sonny, or stop by and see my uncles, I had bountiful opportunities to watch the way you moved. I observed how you never lost your cool, never raised your voice, and always showed up when it counted. You always found a way to take care of us. For a child yearning for a paternal voice, your smooth, baritone one will always resonate most powerfully in my head.

You'd call often, but we never stayed on the phone long. You understood. You saw yourself in me. Always on the go, always on the move. "Gone 'head Justin," you'd say, in your cheery tone.

I remember all the little intricacies about you. Your wit, your easy-going personality, the white Lincoln you used to drive, your tendency to say "I'm battin' a million" when people asked how you were doing, your encyclopedic knowledge about fixing things. Everyone knew you were the coolest.

As I sat next to you in Michigan on those last two days, I couldn't help but think about how strong you must be to have survived so much. You were quite literally a medical anomaly in your survivability of esophageal cancer all those years ago. And yet you still survive. You will live on through me and all the lives you've touched. Your buddy is going to miss having you around though.

Until next time, grandpa.

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