The above picture is pretty emotionally charged for me. This is me and my Grandpa and Grandma Gibson at my high school graduation. Just a few months after this picture, my Grandpa passed away after a long, grueling battle with cancer.
This blog post is all about my Grandpa Gibson, my memories of him and my love for him.
My earliest memories of spending time with Grandpa are all happy. When my parents were out in Illinois looking for a house for our family of five to move into, my sisters and I bounced around staying with assorted family and friends. I don't remember a lot about the places we stayed. The only one I really remember is spending the night at my Grandma and Grandpa Gibson's house. It was a school night and Grandpa got me up in the morning early enough to eat a good breakfast before driving me to school. I remember sitting at the island in the kitchen in the early morning light with a spread that covered the whole thing. There was toast, milk, juice, cold cereal, oatmeal, and I think pancakes. Those might not have been there haha. The funny thing about this is that I've never been a huge breakfast person. All I ate was the toast. But this experience stands out because, looking back, I see the huge effort my Grandpa made so that I would have what I needed.
I have a sort of collage of other memories from when I was young that accompany this in a way. My sisters and I got to spend a lot of time in the backyard with Grandpa when we would visit. He would watch us as we took turns jumping on the trampoline. Sometimes, he would carry us each piggy back from the trampoline to the tree house and back again. We would pretend that the grass was lava or something like that and, of course, he was immune. Sometimes while he was carrying us from tree house to trampoline he would go crazily out of the way (since the two were just a few feet apart).
Back in the day (haha), before the add on office upstairs was really finished, he would let us go up the stairs very, very carefully and see what progress he was making. It didn't make any sense what he would say about building things but it was just cool to be able to see it and be there since we weren't normally allowed there.
I also remember that Grandpa made the best wheat bread in the world. What was even better about his bread was that it became super duper fantastic toast. He was an awesome cook. He always cooked fresh vegetables from his garden for family dinners and they were always delicious. He also made awesome ice cream. He would put whatever fresh berries he had in the ice cream and (big shock haha) it was delicious. One type of ice cream that he also had that was consistently awesome was something we affectionately call mud. It's cookies and cream ice cream and it's the best. Some have tried to replicate it but no one can quite make it like he did.
As I grew up, my memories move inside. I would sit at the piano and play out of whatever book I could find there and he would just sit and listen to me play. When I would play primary songs, my sisters would sing along. At his funeral, the three of us sang A Child's Prayer. That was one primary song that I loved to play and I could sing with my sisters so we had parts. Singing at his funeral was one of the hardest things I've ever done. At the same time though, I wouldn't have it any other way.
My graduation was one of the last outings my Grandpa did. It's such a blessing to have the memory of having him at that first milestone to being a grown-up. I love my Grandpa so so much and miss him even more. I am grateful for the knowledge I have that I can see him again, that this isn't the end, and that goodbye is not forever.
