My Granddad died ten years ago today. I try to remember the anniversary every year. So many things about that day are frozen in my mind. It’s the first time that I ever saw someone die. Granddad explains some of who I am. He was stubborn, quirky, and always into trouble (carefully chosen trouble). He had a great sense of humor and he loved reading and he loved God. You wouldn’t want him in your church, but you would want him on your side. Underneath it all, he had a tender heart. When he got out of hospital one time, the doctor severely restricted his diet. Within minutes of arriving at home, he snuck out for a meal at KFC. He’s the only person I know who had his hand run over by a bus. He was old fashioned, chauvinist, and sometimes bigoted, yet was able to overcome his biases later in life. Vega driver, Watkins rep, pastor’s nightmare, compulsive walker, that’s Granddad. I’d give anything to see him again. And one day I will.