It is nearing the time for the 6th year anniversary of my grandfather's death. He was one of the neatest men I have ever known. Towards the end of his life, his physical body broke down and he had several problems. Most of his senses didn't work too well. The two that most stick out in my mind were his blurred vision and his hearing loss. He couldn't get around very well and spent most of his days in his recliner.

I visited him and my grandmother quite often the last 2 years of his life. We moved them here from a very small town and the "City" life was overwhelming to both of them. I called at least once a day and would run errands and take them places. They thought it was a "burden" for me to do that. I couldn't disagree more.

Many events those two years are implanted in my memories. I learned more lessons than I can count from our encounters.

One Saturday I called and my grandmother needed something from the store. I went to get it and upon getting to their house, found the door open. She was expecting me so I just walked in. My grandmother was in the kitchen and my grandfather was in his usual spot: his recliner. So as not to startle him, I was going to walk past him and speak with my grandmother. I took a few steps and he called out, "Hi, kiddo. Hungry to see you." That was his usual greeting for me. My response, "How did you know it was me?" He smiled and began to sniff the air.

Despite his failing memory, he remembered my perfume. The only kind I have ever worn.

He couldn't see, couldn't hear very well, couldn't walk without a cane, and couldn't do any of his favorite hobbies. That's not the man I remember. The man I remember taught me how to bait a fishing hook, drive a car, hit a golf ball, shoot a gun and read the Bible. He is the reason why I have faith in an afterlife or for that matter, faith in anything at all.

As I commemorate his passing, I salute and honor the man that I miss. And if I could talk to him I would only have one thing to say, "Pappy, I am hungry to see you."