Dear Grandpa,

You were the man who I spent most of my childhood days with when Dad was working.

When I was 5 years old, you were the first to pick me off of the cement when I fell off of my bike and busted my lip. When I was 15, you were the first person to pick me up when middle school knocked me down and busted the inside of me.

I would give a year of my life to spend one day with you. To go to the park and let you show me how to fish again, since I never learned the first few times.

I thought as a 12-year-old that fishing wasn't cool at all; it didn't hold the sparkly, glossy appeal that make-up and clothes started to hold for me.

You taught me how to appreciate a quality breakfast IHOP-style. You were the one who had a joke for every awkward situation in life—from when I was 5 and sitting in time-out when you came over after a certain incident involving cutting the hair off of my sister's Barbie, and came to join me in time-out as well, to when I was 11 and had experimented with blue eyeshadow, neon pink lipstick and a dark green eyeliner to match. You told me I looked beautiful, anyway.

You were my knight in shining armor for most of my life, and even now, without you here, I will remember you for the way you made me and the others around you feel: loved.

If I had to write down a list of the people that I would want to be at my graduation, in my wedding, at the hospital with my first baby or just at IHOP for the Saturday morning coffee date, you would make the top of the list every single time.

This is for you, Grandpa. Some may be a daddy's girl, but I will eternally be a grandpa's girl. I love you to the farthest known planet and back.