Remembering my Grandpa Rosie

I taught second grade for many years, and I taught my students that authors had a book story -- the events they want us to remember -- and a life story -- the lesson they want us to remember.  When my Grandpa Rosie passed away one year ago today, this is how I thought about his life: the memories and the lessons I've learned.  When I spoke at his funeral, I shared those memories and lessons.  During the past year, I've reread those words over and over again.  This blog is my place to reflect on my learning, so today it seemed fitting to write about some of those lessons.

I learned to work hard to take care of my family from my Grandpa Rosie.  He went to Kenyon College after serving our country in World War II.  Grandpa worked hard to be more than his humble beginnings in a small Ohio River town.  My grandpa was the most generous man and always wanted things to be nice for his family.  

I also learned that a little bit matters.  Grandpa Rosie was an avid walker.  He got up and walked for as long as he was able, sometimes even walking laps in the basement when the weather was bad.  My grandpa believed it was better to go for a short time, rather than not going at all.  I often think of that in the morning when I'm tired before going to the gym or for a run, but I know it's better to go for a few minutes or miles than not at all.  What I didn't know a year ago when he passed away was that it would be all those small details -- listening to his voice when he talked to my grandma, reading his handwriting on a card, swapping jokes, calling him to discuss March Madness, talking to him about the stock market and politics -- that I would miss every day.  

I was so truly blessed to have Grandpa Rosie.