30 years...

I was talking to my mom tonight and she told me that tomorrow will mark 30 years since my grandfather died.  He was sixty-seven.  I was almost twelve.  I'm not one to remember much, especially the details of long ago, but there are some things that I do have stored away in my memory.  

 I remember pepere sitting in the den, reading his bible with his wooden cross around his neck.  He was the epitome of a faith-filled man. 

I remember driving in his big white car with him when he would go pick up my memere at work in the afternoons. 

I remember how much he and my memere loved one another; he adored her and it was evident to all those in their presence.

I remember he would sometimes wear clashing patterns, "just look at the top and bottom separately", he would say. 

I remember he would get annoyed with us when we would spin around on the black chairs in the kitchen. 

I remember the funny faces he would make.  

I remember what it felt like to lose him.

I remember the stuffed dog I got when he died. I named him Mozart for pepere's love of music.  

I never remember him being sick, which again, speaks to his character.  

Although I was barely twelve, I'm grateful to have these things tucked away in my heart.  

Sending an xo to you Pep.

"Sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory."