Hey gramps, it's been a while. I’ve missed you like crazy...well, really, we all have. You really were loved by so many people, even if you were a pain in the ass a lot of the time. A lot of us are still pretty torn up about it. To be honest, I don’t think things will ever be the same without you around. It’s odd having birthdays go by without you hovering over us as we place the candles in the cake, insisting “don’t forget one for good luck!” or “you have to have the first piece!” to whoever’s birthday it is. I know that it seemed annoying at the time, but it would be amazing to still see you showing up outside the house ten times a day, or calling me up at school to make sure mom is alright and expecting me to know where she is because she hadn’t answered the home phone.

Other than birthdays, there are a lot of things you’ve missed since you’ve been gone. Your first great-grandchild was born. I can hear you now, amending your prideful speech to anyone that would listen— “I’ve got 11 beautiful grandchildren, 7 boys and four girls”— to include your beautiful great-grandson as well. You also have another great-grandchild on the way, and two of your granddaughters are newly engaged. You must have had some inkling that one of them was going to get engaged soon, because you welcomed my soon to be brother-in-law to the family in what became your last few hours.

A lot has been going on with me too, grandpa. You might already know some of this though. I wonder if you heard me every single night I spent at school the few months after your death. I sat out on a little ledge for a while in the inner quad, staring up at the stars and picking the first one I saw that particular night to talk to as if it were you. It was a rough patch in life for sure, but even in death, your common phrases helped get me through it. It was almost like that star was saying back to me “just brush the bad things off your shoulder, and never lose that smile. That smile is worth a million bucks, and when you smile, the whole world smiles with you.” In case you weren’t listening, here’s what’s been going on with me and what’s happened since my midnight star chats with you have stopped.

I finally learned all the lyrics to “My Way” since it was your favorite song. Really anything by Sinatra was your favorite, but I know you liked that one in particular. You sang it any chance you got, and from time to time I sing it to myself now, too.

I started wearing that horseshoe ring you gave me for confirmation from time to time, the one with the scorpion on it. I wear it any time I need good luck or just particularly miss you, always with the horseshoe opening facing toward me like you insisted to “keep the good luck in.” I’m wearing it right now as I’m writing this even.

I started writing here on The Odyssey too. I’d probably have to print everything out for you if I wanted you to be able to read it, but even if you couldn’t you’d still be proud. You’d probably go into the story again about how your mother wrote poetry and songs all the time. I guess I have your genes to thank for my love of writing.

I’ve also started staying clean-shaven again, just like you always liked. I can hear you in the back of my head now: “other people, they need all that. But your face is too handsome to cover up, grandson.” While I don’t necessarily agree with you there, I stayed clean-shaven for a while after you passed, then grew out my facial hair and left it that way for a few months. I think you’d like the way I look now; I’ve been trying to stay completely clean-shaven lately. I’m not sure why I’ve made the switch, but I think it has something to do with you.

I think that’s about it for now, grandpa. I’ll try and come visit you at the cemetery as soon as I can. I hope you’re doing alright up there, and just know that we all really miss you down here. Say hello to grandma for me. I love you, grandpa.