My grandparents have been some of the most important people in my life. I'm as close as I can be with my mom's mom and my step-grandfather, as they've been able to give me a place to stay whenever I go home to Painesville since my parents moved to New York. My mom's dad always used to take me golfing, giving me a different kind of sport to play apart from baseball. My dad's mom used to babysit me all the time when I was growing up, spoiling me with any kind of junk food I wanted to eat whenever I wanted to eat it.

And with all due respect to all of these wonderful people I just listed who have helped shape who I am today, there is no one that has had a greater impact on my life than my Papa Denny, my dad's father.

Growing up in a family that consisted mostly of girls, I think my grandpa loved having a grandson that he could teach sports to and bond over the games we would watch on television. My parents were never really that into football or baseball or anything like that, and I think my love of Ohio State football came from my grandfather. I still remember sitting around in the living room all day just watching college football games or going outside and playing catch with a baseball. It was him who taught me how to oil a glove or the proper stance for a catcher or how to block wild pitches and everything in between. Even though he couldn't be out in the heat in the middle of summer, he would still drive to my baseball games and watch from his air conditioned car. He truly believed that I had the talent to make it to the majors, even though that obviously never transpired.

But it wasn't just the sports that meant so much to me. He was like a second father to me. Whenever I would spend time at my grandparents' house, I could always count on a ride on the tractor around the yard. Or if it was too cold outside, he would chase my cousins and I around the house like he was a killer straight out of a horror film. We would cower in fear in the bathroom while he banged on the door, acting as though he were the meanest man alive, when in fact he was just the opposite.

Despite his stubborn and sometimes brutish personality, I know he always wanted the best for his grandkids. He was never one to really show emotion, but there was never a doubt in my mind that he loved each and every one of us kids. My dream to attend Ohio State for college was one that he believed I could accomplish, no matter the odds, and even though he didn't truly push me towards my academic goals like my parents did, he was always in the back of my mind.

But unfortunately, on January 6, 2013, I tragically lost the man that never stopped believing in me. I still remember the devastation I felt when I got the news that fateful morning. It was so overwhelming that I lost any sort of feeling of emotion, instead reverting to nothing more than a statue. I couldn't bear to walk up to his casket at the wake, even when the cousins put a canvas with all of our handprints on it into his coffin. The thought of looking at the lifeless body of the man that once had so much life in him was just too much for me.

But even though he's gone from the physical world, I know he's still with me to this day. I'm not a big believer in the afterlife or anything spiritual, and I'm not very religious either, but there are days when I feel like he's most definitely watching over me. During every national anthem at an Ohio State football game as the flag is being raised, I say a prayer to him, knowing that the anthem is meant to honor current and former soldiers, just like him. It nearly brings tears to my eyes every single time, no matter how lame that may sound.

He never got to see me graduate high school, and he won't get to see me graduate from my dream school, but I know I'm living the life that he would've wanted me to live. I'm doing what makes me happy every single day, and I know even though he's not here to see me go through all of this, somehow and somewhere, he's watching over me.