When I was a toddler, I'd climb into the cabinets and take out all the pots and pans and spoons and bang on them in my kitchen for hours. When I painted or colored, I did it all day. There's videographic evidence that I can be so engrossed with a fudgesicle that I don't notice much going on around me -- some may even claim there's still some truth to the last one. My point being, it seems like as we age our focus shifts further away from the things in front of us and more towards everything else going on around us. Those who are lucky realize it before most of us even consider it to be a problem.

I can't decide where I fit into the spectrum of those people, but there's one thing I do know for certain -- I wish I had done more with my grandparents. I wish I had been more present as they got older, just like they were for me as I grew up. Looking back, now, my grandparents -- even as they aged -- were the driving forces of my family. Even until their dying days, there's little doubt in my mind that they were the keystones to everything: family functions, weddings, births, you name it.

Our bodies may age with time, but our Greek minds are as sharp as ever, and I'm pretty sure my grandfather carried that with him to his grave, God rest his soul. I have many memories of my grandparents together, most of them dealing with some sort of family function. After losing my grandma when I was eight, most of my intact memories involve my grandpa, but if there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that they were perfect for one another. They were each other's best friend and worst enemy, at the same time. God help anyone who walked into my grandmother's kitchen while she was cooking (unless you were Nick, or one of her seven grandchildren, specifically her only grandson, the rest were beaten with a wooden spoon). As time went on, they became some of my best friends, too.

There's nothing I can do to bring my grandparents back. At least in this world, I'll never have the opportunity to make another memory with them, and that's something I deeply regret. I won't get to talk to them again, or eat with them...or anything. So, for now, I'll do what I can, and just say thank you:

Thank you for always being the first person to call me on my birthday, and singing "Happy birthday." I miss it more than I ever thought I would and, truth be told, it was the best part of my birthday. Thank you for attending every school play, fundraiser, art show, musical, and sporting event that I was a part of. I might have been busy doing my own thing at the moment, but I knew no matter how I did that day, someone would think I was a winner. Thank you for the Christmas presents that always coordinated with the other six grandchildren, because socks, scarves, hangers, and stuffed hippos never go out of style.

Thank you for the extra buck or two in your pocket, even though it was your last, or all you had. Little do you know that I saved most of those, and when they were finally spent, I thought of you. Thank you for always being my biggest critic, your opinions meant a lot to me. Thank you for always picking me up from work or school when I was sick and taking care of me. Thank you for the best hot sausage and spaghetti this side of the Mississippi. I'm truly going to miss it, and I know I'll never be able to make it like you did, but most of all, thank you for being you, because without your love and patience, I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am today.

I wish every day I had another minute to share with you. Until I do, I'll live each with you in mind. Keep shining.