Tomorrow, January 26th, is my PawPaw's birthday. I have written about him before. This year he would have been 81; he passed away in October 1996. His death had and still has an enormous effect on me. Maybe it because it was only the second significant loss in my life, the first being when I was only about 6.
With time you might not think about them every minute of everyday but the pain of their loss and the emptiness without them is always around. As a daddy's girl myself I can see my mom's pain as I look at her and not only do I see the dark chestnut eyes that she shared with her father but just the mention of his name brings so much to her face. As even my PawPaw would say, he was not a perfect man. But maybe that's what it is that makes us love each other. We are perfectly flawed. We don't always say or do the right things but the mark we leave on others is the truth about how we lived our life.
Regardless of anything else, I knew that my PawPaw loved me. Even when I was a little girl I can remember his face lighting up when any of his grandchildren were in the room. We climbed all over him, tossled his hair, drank his Pepsi-cola (his words), and talked incessantly.
When my mom's family gathers on Sunday for lunch to celebrate family birthdays, I can't help but think of PawPaw being right there with us. Shaking his head at some of the crazy things we say and laughing at us. But most of all just enjoying the sight before him.