My grandpa meant a lot to me. I owe him largely for where I am today. He provided for my childhood, my education, and my future. He pushed me to put be my best in life. Sometimes I would get impatient with him, like when he would come over to my house with a letter that I had sent him, just to talk about the spelling mistakes that I had made. He meant well though, and I always try to read things over now before I click send because I remembered that lesson. I can thank him for that. My grandpa loved me. I think he sometimes struggled to show that, but I know that through his actions he did. The other day I went fishing with a friend and I was reminded of the first time I ever went fishing. It was with my grandpa. He had bought me a purple kids tackle box and a plastic fishing pole. I can’t remember if I caught anything, but I do remember that we were at the river and we spent time together. When I was really little, he used to feed one maraschino cherry to me with a special little fork everything I left his house. This was our special thing. I always looked forward to it, and sometimes, if I was lucky I would get two. When I was a teenager, we also shared time together when we had pet rats. Although many people think they are vermin, we learned together that rats are very intelligent and clean pets. When they died we buried them behind his house and had a little funeral for each one. We even wrote out a family tree of them and I still have it today. It has his handwriting and I will always keep it. I cherish these memories. When his memory started getting worse, I wasn’t really sure what to think. I tried to be patient. Then he went into the hospital. As dementia took over his mind I noticed that he was always happy. I almost think he seemed most happy during these times than when I knew him before, I think this was because though his life was hard, raising 5 kids on his own, working as a doctor, that even though I know he wasn’t perfect, I believe that at the end of his life he was at peace. He knew that God would take care of him no matter what happened, that God had him in the palm of his hand and loved him and forgave him just as he wants to forgive each person. The last real conversation I had with my grandpa was when he was in the hospital that first time. We were wheeling him to the hospital chapel. Everyone else was talking amongst themselves. I was at his side and he made it a point to tell me this, “We all go through hard times, but the most important thing to remember is this: Make sure you put Jesus first.” I believe I will see my grandpa again in heaven some day when Jesus returns. I look forward to that day.