I'm one of those people that doesn't like finishing things, but I love starting them. Over the course of the past four or five years I've began at least six or seven different blog projects with the aim of discussing different topics of interest within the Gaming and Music communities. Every time I give up within the first few weeks when I get too lazy to post anything and I said "fuck it who wants to read my shit anyway" like some miserable chump. I was sincerely about to do that with this blog when a voice popped in my head that said "Stick it out you fucker, it'll make you a better writer, what would you grandfather say?"
My grandfather was one of the most important figures in my life, even though I can't say I completely remember our time together. He passed away while I was rather young and I didn't appreciate the time that we had. The things I do remember are the puppies, the movies, and flying a kite out of the back window of his pickup truck.
Sometime between the ages of six and twelve I remember stumbling around and enjoying the salient traquility of my grandfathers backyard. I would often watch him grow vegetables that I would never taste, because I was a picky asshole; raise chickens that would lay eggs that for the longest time I wouldn't eat, because I was a picky asshole; and see him skin rabbits that I wouldn't eat, because I thought that was the grossest thing in the world.
One day he decided to produce a mysterious box from some unknown place that I still haven't asked my parents about. Who knows, this entire event may be a figment of my imagination. He overturned the box and out poured a flood of puppies that proceeded to trample me and my twin brother and lick us until we were both screaming so loud that I swear my parents thought they were goring us. I would never enjoy the presence of a dog again until I was much older. I don't know exactly what they did, but when I was a child I was afraid of everything. I know, however, that my grampa was just trying to make me smile, despite my parents objections that this exact scenario would probably play out.
The thing about grandparents is that they get to love you without having to control you. They are there to furnish your imagination while your parents are there to make sure you get up for school the next day. The day he let me flourish a kite by letting it fly from the rear window of his pick up truck, I knew that I could do anything. It might sound strange to an adult, but as a child, it was the coolest thing in the world to me. I'm not sure he would be proud of where I'm at today, but as I get older I am continuing to make amends for the stupid mistakes that I made as a younger, less engaged adult.
Cancer took him later, and sadly, a lot of my clearest memories are of him struggling to survive despite lacking the finances for the best treatments possible. The last words that I remember him saying to me were "When I get better, we're gonna go fishing" with a smile that still breaks my heart to think about. I don't believe in god, but I hope he's somewhere safe and special.
I'm working on my creativity, trying to write like I always promised myself I would, I'm educating myself a little bit everyday through school and serious reading, I want him to be proud of me. This blog is dedicated to my grandfathers memory. I may not be a great writer now, I may never be the greatest writer in the world, but I'm going to try; for him. How about you readers? How are you doing making your grandparents or that special someone proud? Any stories that you'd like to share? Leave them in the comments below.
Later, the origin of the blogs name :)
