My father, who always watched my hockey games with the other parents he was friends with, stood alone in the corner of the rink on this night, almost in a daze. The moments I lost focus of the game and saw him, he showed no excitement in our goals, and no disappointment in my mistakes. I could see him standing there, but it was like there was no game being played in front of him. He was alone in the corner, lifeless.
When I got home that evening after an unusually quiet ride back, my mom broke the news to me. I was ten years old at the time. My dad’s father had passed away that afternoon right before my game. She began to cry as she told me and I hugged her and began to cry as well. I knew my grandfather, but not as well as I would have liked. Since I was only ten and he lived in Florida, fond memories are there, but hard to remember fully.
When I did get to spend time with him I took it for granted. I don’t know if it was because I always thought he would be around, or I was too young to appreciate what an incredible person he was. Every day I wish he was still alive, or that I would have been old enough to be able to remember the great times with him and all the things he did for my family and me. I think it is too easy to take things for granted when they’re right there all of the time. We generally wait until things are gone to realize how important they really are. I believe we need to recognize and appreciate the wonderful people in our lives.
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