Happy Birthday Grampo

Yesterday was a good day. Grampo turned 95, and I had the privilege of putting on a celebration for him at his house.

I got to Grampo's early and started cooking. I made a berry pie, an apricot pie, six loaves of zucchini bread, and sauce. Grampo and I picked and cooked beets, greens, onions, and string beans. All the while I had the company of this man I love, who told me the old stories of his life with a gleam in his eye.

Throughout the day visitors dropped by to pay their respects with a drink and a bit of food, and they heard the stories, too. I floated happily about in the kitchen, listening and laughing, and occasionally either teasing Grampo or receiving it from him.

"She gives me trouble," he likes to tell people, with his big wide smile.

I dragged tables in from the summer kitchen, hunted through ancient drawers for tablecloths, and picked flowers from Grams' garden, filling mason jars with blossoms coaxed from the ground by her own hands.

Grampo's house filled up with family and friends, and we all celebrated this man we love so much. This first birthday without Grams was hard for him. But Grampo has a love for life that has not been extinguished--even by this deep sorrow he now carries.

Thank you God for the gift of Grampo. He brings me joy.