On my first day of sixteen, October’s fall winds had brought cooled temperatures and the restless feeling that comes with changing seasons. I waited outside my high school, eager to officially drive with my license. Students began to disappear into SUVs and mini vans and eventually I was one of the few left.

Soon I saw a huge bunch of colorful balloons and when they turned the corner I saw my grandpa driving a beautiful blue convertible. I was ecstatic. My grandpa was so excited to give me the car that he had saved for more years than I had lived. His smile was easily as big as mine. I always think of my sixteenth birthday when I think of my grandpa. That day he didn't have diabetes or kidney failure, not to me at least. He was my grandpa, my Poppy.

Poppy always went for the elaborate; the magnificent. Poppy didn’t require a special occasion to have fun. For him, every moment held the opportunity for the amazing and he took the opportunity every time. He loved with a love so completing that all his grandchildren felt cared for and supported.

Four Octobers after my sixteenth birthday I had left for college and was in the middle of rushing for a sorority when I received a phone call from my dad. Hours later I was on a plane back home to see my Poppy. Time was benevolent and I was given the gift of speaking with him one more time. We spoke little, but I was surrounded by an overwhelming feeling of love. Poppy cared so much for me and I felt it in his words.

Months have passed since that October night and though my grandpa’s death has left sadness, his life has left happiness. I have chosen to live not in despite of his death, but because of his life, with a little bit of his affinity for the magnificent. Poppy taught me to live with tenacity and I know that if we could live a life with half the heart that he had we will live a full life.