This article isn't about views. It's not about shares, either. This is more like a diary. So if you're interested, well, I guess you can keep reading.

I've never written (and published) anything like this before. But I've been thinking, and I came across a photo today that reminded me of who I truly am and where I come from.

Lee Stoneburner

This picture obviously doesn't mean much to you, but to me, it was a reminder of who I am. Who I should always be. Free-spirited and happy go lucky no matter what life throws my way.

As you can see here, I'm standing in front of an antique sink that my Papa and I used for multiple things. Heck, I even remember taking BATHS in this thing. The cold well water did me well.

So anyway, back to my open letter.

First I'd like to say thank you because you are why I love to do what I do. When I was just a little girl, you told me that someday I would write a book and you could illustrate it. You won't get to illustrate the cover, but you betcha I'm still going to write that book.

I fell in love with the best passion I could've ever pursued, all because of one little remark you made. Pops, without you, I wouldn't be me. I love writing, photography, people, the world, and everything good all thanks to you.

Day in and day out, you send me reminders that you're still here with me. As I am sitting here in my bed writing this article, "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert came on; I remember one day it was you, grams, and I sitting out on the porch and you played the guitar while I sang this song. Little things like that happen all the time and they remind me each and every day of where home is and who I am. The biggest reminder is the butterflies and dragonflies that fly past me or land on me everywhere I go. It happens to me a couple times a week.

Actually, I have something I need to tell you... I got a tattoo of a dragonfly with watercolor in it on my leg. You would either kill me or love it, I'm not sure.

The day that you passed away I was at your house. But the day before that was one of the best memories I've ever made. While I was in high school, I wrote a memoir about it.

You know that cheerful feeling on the last day of school before Christmas break? The beautiful sparkling white snow that covers the ground like a fluffy blanket, the fuzzy socks, the warm, soft, delectable chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven, and the Christmas carols playing on every radio station? That was how my week started.

But as everyone knows, sometimes bad events take place during good times. No matter how big or small, they can significantly impact your life. The death of my grandfather left me as a bleak, hollow, depressed little girl for the time being, but that experience has pushed me to become the young woman I am today.

It was December 27th, 2010, just a few days after Christmas. My grandpa met my dad at a place I liked to call "The Bears," also known as Cabela's which is located in Toledo, Michigan. He was picking up Cooper (my little brother) and I for the last couple days of the break we had off from school. Cabela's is what we always used as the halfway point from my house in London, Ohio to my grandpa's house in Gladwin, Michigan. "The Bears" was one of my favorite places to visit while traveling. Every time we went there we got to look at the gigantic aquarium with all the colorful fishes, the stuffed animals, the waterfall flowing through the entire place and of course the gigantic copper colored bears in front of the store.

After we followed our regular routine in the store, we said our goodbyes to our dad and off to Gladwin we went.

The trip was always full of great elation and Grandpa told stories of all sorts. We listened to his old, but enjoyable music, and most importantly we laughed. Grandpa was funny, maybe a little inappropriate for an 11 and 8 year old, but definitely a funny guy. It was about a three hour trip from Toledo to Gladwin, but he made it enjoyable. When we made it to my grandpa's house we were exhausted. We went off to our rooms and peacefully fell asleep.

The next day all three of us woke up excited and ready to take on the world together. We started it off with a trip to the store. We picked up a few things for the pot roast we planned on making for dinner, and we also bought some brownie mix and eggs. When we got back to the house we put the ingredients in the slow cooker for the pot roast so it could be ready by dinner time. Shortly after that, we piled on layers of thick clothes and itchy scarves because we were about to go sledding down the enormous hill in the backyard. As we walked out the door to start our adventure we grabbed the sleds and raced to the hill. Of course grandpa beat us but only because he pushed us down in the snow to win the race. Cooper and I got up giggling and continued to run to the hill. Although we were out in the seemingly arctic temperature for hours, it had no effect on me. I was not cold, and I did not want to go inside. It was like every other trip to our Grandpa's house, we always had a blast. Grandpa got a running start and slid down the hill face first, right onto the frozen lake and into a bank of gleaming snow. I remember him getting up, stumbling around a little, looking at us and chuckling like no other.

That night we went home and made delicious, crisp brownies together. I did most of the work, Cooper and my grandpa just sat back and watched. Even though I knew they were not the best, my grandpa made a huge deal out of me making them. He said "Wow, those are almost better than your grandma's brownies!" I knew it was a lie, but it was a nice gesture so I said, "Thank you Papa," and smiled. After baking, we all cleaned up and sat in the living room on the cold wooden floor while telling ghost stories in front of the fireplace. Grandpa told a story of the "ghost child" on the bridge, which, in his words, "took place on the bridge about a half a mile from here." Cooper and I were terrified by his ghost story, so he tried to lighten up the mood by showing us some of his prized possessions. He showed us his newest editions to his extravagant camera collection, and his art projects that were newly finished, which I always thoroughly enjoyed. After that we agreed that we had a very long day, so we went to our rooms and went to bed.

It was early the next morning, right as the sun began to rise, and my grandpa came in my room and woke me up. He said "Mace, let your puppy out." Then he gave me a great big hug, kissed me on the forehead, told me he loved me and went back to the couch and fell asleep. Little did I know, those were the last words I would ever hear from my grandpa.

Cooper and I did not wake up until about 11:00 the next morning, but Papa was still sleeping. My brother and I went through the day together, colored pictures, watched television, and ate leftovers. We tried to wake our grandpa up multiple times. He was snoring pretty loud, but for some odd reason we could not wake him up. It was 9 that night, and we still were not able to wake our grandpa up! So we called our grandma and had her pick us up and take us to her house. We did not even think twice, we just thought he had a long day and needed some extra sleep, which is what it seemed.

It was 9:00 in the morning on December 30th and we were on our way to our uncle's house with our grandma. She got a phone call, so she pulled over to answer it. I listened closely and heard my uncle say "Dad's dead, Dad's dead, Dad's dead!" with a shrieking cry. My veins turned stone cold and I could feel the blood rush to my face. I tried to feel the pain, but I could not do so. I was emotionless, it seemed like a nightmare that I was not able to wake up from. My younger brother was not listening close enough to overhear, but I remember slowly closing my eyes and praying that it was not true.

His death was on my mind all day. It was about 10:00 that night and I was staying at my Aunt Ginger's house. I heard a knock on the door and when my grandma opened it I was surprised, but petrified to see my dad walk in. It felt like my heart instantly dropped to the floor and my entire body became a desolate, emotionless wasteland. I knew what it was as soon as I saw him. I acted surprised and happy to see him, but I could feel that the worst was coming. He sat Cooper and me down on the couch and told us that our beloved papa died earlier that morning.

I'll never forget that moment; it changed my life forever. Today, I represent my grandfather. His art, photography, and many other skills of his will continue to live through me. This experience shaped me into the young, successful person I am today. I am a hardworking individual because of what my grandpa taught me. Beginning at a very young age he pushed me to be the very best I could be, to love those who hate, and to do what I loved in life no matter what anyone else tells me. That is the advice that everyone should take.

First of all, if you took the time to read that, thank you. It's by far one of the most important stories of my life. Usually, I don't write articles over 700 words and this one is currently at 1,850. So I should probably wrap it up.

To everyone who read, hug your loved ones a little tighter today, tomorrow, and for the rest of your life because you never know when you will last exchange words with them.

I love you, papa.

Your little girl,

Macey Joe