What is inspiration? Is it a person you look up to? Or an action one does? Maybe it’s someone you want to become. Well to me, my biggest inspiration is my Grandfather. There’s a story that my mom tells me occasionally, and I don’t know how much of it is fabricated, but the affect it has on me is pure inspiration It goes a little like this…

     When my mom was pregnant with me, my Grandad had his first heart attack. He had it around the time I was due. He was staying at Kaiser Walnut Creek, which was the same hospital my mom was planning on giving birth to me. My Grandad was in the hospital for quite some time before he got the news. My mom was on her way to the same hospital to deliver me in the hours to come. My Grandad was so excited that he wouldn’t let the nurses keep him in his room so he demanded to see my mother before I was born. Well he got his way and he met my mother before she went in the delivery room. They met up in wheelchairs. My Grandad made sure my mom was okay and she proceeded to tell him how she was feeling and how soon they could expect me. My mom asked him how he was doing and made sure he was okay. Of course he skipped right past those questions because all he really cared about is when he’s going to get to hold me. So then he looked her straight in my mom’s eyes and told her “I’ll be fine. I’m going to live to be around this one,” pointing at her stomach.

     My mom gave birth to me at 9 lbs. 9 oz. a healthy baby. And guess who was there to hold me. My Grandad. Every time I hear that story I feel so special to have had someone that cared about me so much.

     When I got a little older I would go over to his house and he would hold me and play with me all day. When I was about four I would go over to his house and vent to him about all of the things that were going on at my daycare. If something was bothering me, he would be the first to know. I loved him as much as he loved me. I looked up to him more than any other idol I had.

     When January 2005 had came around, My Grandad was in his worst condition and had had his second heart attack. I remember visiting him in the room he stayed in. seeing him like that brought tears to my eyes instantly. But I feel blessed that I got to see him in some of his last moments.

     The day after I went to see him for the last time, he had died. I remember finding the news out from my mom. And when she was telling me, all I can remember is thinking that that moment wasn’t real. She wasn’t really giving me this news. He didn’t pass away. I held in the tears. I didn’t want to cry because crying would mean I was weak and I wanted to be just as tough as he was. I finally thought about it long and hard, I would never see him again. He would never hold me in his arms again. I would never get to go over to his house and tell him everything that was going on at school. I no longer could share those moments with him. He was gone. Forever.

     At his funeral I was a mess. It was the first death I had to deal with and it was one of the most important people in the world to me. I remember talking to the priest and telling him everything, but nothing made it better. Nothing brought him back. As much as I tried not to think about him, I always did. He was the only face I could see when I closed my eyes. He was always there.

     Now, I’ve learned to cope with his death. It’s been a while since he had passed away but it has never gotten easier. I’ve just learned to live life without him here. I still think about him each and every day, no less. He’s always on my mind no matter what. Now, I wear a chain around my neck with his dog tag from World War II, which he was in. It’s my most prized possession. No matter what I’m wearing it’s always the most expensive thing I have on because it has so much meaning to me. Everyday, every second, he’s with me. Around my neck just as if he was holding his arms around me like he used to. He’s always here. He’s my inspiration. I want to be just like him. I want to love my children, and my children’s children as much as he loved me. I would be lucky if I was half the man he was, but that’s what I aim for, to be more and more like him. Because that man, that same man that fought in war for our country, that was there holding me in his lap after school days, is the same man that lived for me. My Grandad. That is my inspiration.

Somewhere deep inside, I think that you will fall for me.

Tell me all about how much you wanted someone who cared and listened to every little thing you had to say, but don’t tell me how you had them and you through them away.