I have wanted to write something about my Grandfather since we added this board.  I am not sure I have the words to explain just how much he meant to me.

Growing up I felt invisible often.  Not because of anyone but because I was very quiet and shy when I was young.  (Yes I know what you are thinking)  But I was never ever invisible to my Grandfather.  They lived in New York, we lived all over.  When they would come to see us everything was wonderful.

My grandfather was 6�?tall but he would sit in the way back of the station wagon with me, he would climb under the bridge where I spent my time.  He would always be there for me.  He always wore a suit.  He wore it even when playing badminton against the three of us kids.

As I grew older he was the one that always knew when I needed something.  My phone would ring when I was having a bad day and it was always him.  But I would call him on his bad days.  It was a two-way connection.  When he would come to visit he always had something special for us in his coat pockets.  He always made me feel so very special.

As I grew older still, I learned that there were many things about my grandfather that I did not agree with, but that changed nothing.  My love for him only grew stronger.  He may have a different view about things then I did but he was still the one person who was always on my side.

As he grew older, the strain of age was showing.  He would forget things that were once so easy for him.  We would sit sometimes so quiet just holding hands.  I would listen to stories I had heard so many times.  I would try and remember every detail so I could pass the stories on.

As he grew older still, I would go and visit him.  Some times I would be me and other times I would be seen by him as different relatives.  I would visit with him as one person.  Walk out into the hall for a minute and go back and be someone else.  The look on his face is still so clear to me today.

I will never ever be able to express just how wonderful this man was in my eyes.  Before I end this I need to add, he smoked cigars.  I do not and never have liked any smoking, cigarettes or cigars.  But I know and my grandfathers cigar smoke.  It was one of the most wonderful smells to me.  To open the front door of the house and walk in and smell that cigar was better then any other smell.

I talk to my grandfather all the time.  I still smell the cigars.  He will always be with me, and for that I am so very thankful.