Right about now, they’re both probably having a drink at some bar in Heaven. Papa is having a Manhattan and Grandpa is having a beer. I’m sure they’re both having fun up there, but I miss them down here. They are missing so many great moments. Grandpa missed the births of two great grandchildren, and Papa missed his granddaughter’s wedding and the birth of her son, who would have been his first great grandchild. They both were suffering, and they are both in a better place now, but, as I come closer and closer to becoming a college graduate, I can’t help but miss the both of them, and wish that they could see me reach the biggest milestone in my life so far. Still, I am lucky to have such amazing men watching over me each day.

I have always been afraid to lose my grandparents, but I knew as I got older that it was inevitable. You’re just never ready, even if they have been sick for months and aren’t given a very good outlook by doctors. It’s doesn’t matter if they are 70, 80, 90, or 100 – the death of a grandparent sucks beyond words. But, rather than being sad that my grandpa and papa no longer here, I remember the men you were. I remember grandpa as a man who was quiet, yet incredibly witty. I remember him as a man who loved to cook and loved watching the Red Sox on TV. Every single time I walked into the house he was always there to greet me with a “Little lady, you’re getting more beautiful every day!”. He had the best saying and comments. He smoked a pipe in the basement, and to this say the smoked tobacco smell lingers in the basement where he would watch TV away from the chaos that is our family. Grandpa was in the Navy, and retired as a Master Chief. I have his Master Chief hat on a shelf in my room. He loved hats. I don’t think I ever saw him without one on. If he were alive today, I’d be the first of the grandchildren to graduate from college, and I wish so much that he could be there to see it. I know he’d be proud.

Now, Papa’s are no ordinary grandfathers. Any one who has a Papa will tell you that Papas are a different breed in the grandparent world. My Papa was the most giving person I had ever met. He worked for UPS for 29 years, and when he started having grandchildren he retired. He spent his post-retirement years doing two things: spending winters in Florida and spending summers with his family. His favorite thing was when his whole family was together. He went to everything his grandchildren did: sports, band concerts, dance recitals, plays, graduations, everything. He’d stop by randomly just to say “hi”, and he treated the place like it was his. Once, he came to my house randomly to say “hi”, made a sandwich, and spread paper work out on the kitchen table to pay his bills. He’d call from the car to see if we were home, and when I answered the phone he’d always ask if he woke me up – even if it was dinner time. Speaking of which, he called right in the middle of dinner a lot. And, if we weren’t home to answer his call, he’d leave a message on the machine where he’d tell us to call him back, but when would go on to tell us the story of why he called. His voicemail messages were the best. He never got to see my sister get married. He never got to meet her son. He’ll never get to see me graduate. He’d be so proud, too.

When my nephew was born, he was born with two dark spots on each eyelid. My best friend told me that those marks were called angel kisses, and he had two. I knew when she said that that my guardian angels had kissed Logan, and they’re now his guardian angels, too. He’ll never meet them, and he’ll never get to know how lucky he is to have such great men watching over him as he grows up. I see so much of both of them in my nephew, so I know they’ll both live on in him. They’re still with me. Every time I see a red truck as I drive I know it is Grandpa making sure I am safe, and I know it is Papa when I see a UPS truck. You never truly lose anyone. They’re memory is always with you, and while I’d still love a hug, memories are going to have to do.