A Week in Logan

Last Thursday I was driving south on Logan main street. I was needing to turn left and head east; however, the light was green so I was yielding to many vehicles heading north. I inched my way into the intersection to have the opportunity to turn left when the light would switch. I noticed the line of cars continuing north, so the wait was very long. When the light decided to turn yellow the cars heading north stopped allowing me to turn left so that I wasn't left in the intersection; however, a white Dodge decided they wanted to own the intersection, so they gunned it and ran the red light, nearly hitting me. I was a little shaken up after and my immediate response was, "Call Grandpa and ask him who was in the wrong!" When I knew that I couldn't call him, I decided to call mom and/or Chelsie. I found no answers, and I am still curious who would have been at fault.

In other news, I am sitting on my porch right now, enjoying the sun, drinking some lemonade with ice. It reminds me of spending time out on the deck as a family. I loved those afternoons. I remember always being the, "Mitchell, will you go get...." boy for Grandpa and Grandma. I know we have all made jokes about how Grandpa would say, "3 ice cubes", but it made me feel good that I could help my Grandpa with the most simple things. I will forever remember my Grandpa by the way that I served him. I helped him in the yard, helped with the clocks, and many other things.

A few weeks ago I was out for a run in Orangeville, and I decided to pay Grandma a visit. I went inside and we talked for a bit, she showed me his room and the wallpaper removal process. She left the room to answer a phone call and I could have a moment in his room. I opened up his closet doors and I saw his tie holder. I remember, as a child, I loved seeing his tie holder and how it would rotate. I saw a shirt of his, and just like my mother, I pulled the shirt in and held it. I smelled the shirt and for that brief moment, I had Grandpa next to me. I knew Grandpa was watching at that moment. I could feel it. I could feel him.

On my way back to Logan, I drove in silence. I thought about life, family, friends, and Grandpa and what I had experienced that afternoon in his room, and I have come up with this conclusion: Before I had gone home I hadn't spent much time on the fact that Grandpa was no longer here. I knew he had past, but I never "felt" what I did that afternoon in his bedroom. So I take that experience as a reminder that my Grandpa still knows me, he watches me, he is reading this blog as I type it, he is still there. So I think we will all have a reminder sooner or later, and they will happen when we are needing that reminder, and when we are in need of that comfort and love that we once had when Grandpa was here.