Laowai

My Grandpa Dice died in April. I haven't been able to write about it because it felt like everything I write would be too little for all that Grandpa meant. I was so so sad that I couldn't go to his funeral and be near to all my aunts and uncles and cousins. I think about Grandpa often and I think about Grandma too and I want to remember. Then I read a blog post the other day that inspired me to try to put some words down. The blog is called Dear Baby and she wrote of her grandparents and what she wrote seemed so right to me. Here's part of what she said:

"These are my grandparents, Dick and Pat. They are the foundation for my beliefs about what it means to be a family and to work hard and about what really is most important in life. These are my grandparents and this is what I know of love."  

I picture Grandma and Grandpa Dice in their kitchen with their arms around each other. I picture Grandpa's big strong hands. I picture his playful surprised face after we grandkids got to climb up into his lap and blow out the match that he used to light his pipe. I remember his love of strawberry shortcake and his appreciation for all Grandma's desserts. I picture, ever so vaguely, riding in his International and singing The Bear Went Over the Mountain with my cousins. I remember him telling us, as Grandma served us pie, that pie's not good for little girls. I picture the big big cards that he would buy for Grandma – because big cards equal big love. I picture him lifting and jiggling the end of the mattress to wake up a bed full of sleepy grandkids in the morning. These are all just little snippets – typical Grandpa Dice isms that all his Grandkids surely remember. I know there is more depth to Grandpa and his life but this is what a little girl remembers and they are what I loved about Grandpa. I picture him laughing at a joke at the dinner table and I picture the quiet, constant way that he was always there and this is what I know of love.