Part of Me

Rachel - 63131, Missouri
Entered on May 12, 2009
Age Group: Under 18
Themes: legacy

Everything has a beginning, and everything has an end. Some things are too long, and others too short. The thing that ties everything together is memory, which should always be treasured, and never lost. Though a memory forgotten is dreadful, a memory never created is even worse. Before you realize it people who aren’t even in your memories can change your life!

When I was three years old, I began to see the world around me and question everything. A question often arose: who was my grandpa, and why had I never met him? My grandmother sat me down on a raggedy leather chair and began telling me the glorious tale of the greatest man ever to live – my grandpa. She told about his tiny barbershop; it may have been small, but it was full of love. Next to her dripping sink still laid his barber pole that used to spin bright colors round in front of his shop every day. Everyone who walked into his shop left with a smile; he knew how to brighten everyone’s day. Somehow, after my grandmother had told me that, I began to smile as often as I could. Trying to make sure that every time I smiled I passed it onto a friend or a kind stranger. I looked below at what I was sitting on; it was his barber chair. That was the moment I first knew I wanted to be just like him, a simple person who with one smile could change the world!

I did not have to search too far to find out about who he was. I had never truly realized before, but it seemed impossible for people to stop talking about how wonderful he was when the subject arose. They told me how when he came over to the house he would pick me up, hold me close and whisper “I love you.” He rarely let other people hold me. I may not remember him, but I can still feel his warm loving arms wrap tight around me. Then getting excited, my mother would tell me about the jokes he used to make, and how his humor could be told a thousand times and never dry out. My favorite thing she would tell me about him, was that he never wanted to use a car to get to work or anywhere within a few miles. He felt that he did not need to waste gas as long as he had two good walking feet! This made me think hard. Why do I use a car just to drive a fourth of a mile to Starbucks everyday? I began to walk the park everyday; when I was there I would think about him and how if he were still alive I would want him to be proud of me not falling into modern day stereotypes. My grandpa was a wonderful man to look up too, until I was three months old when he died of a heart attack. Every time I think about him I have the same thought: I wish I could have known him. I wish I could have seen everything about him first hand.

I like to believe everyday my grandpa is up above looking over me, watching me grow and mature. It is not fair that he gets to know me so well, and I don’t ever get to know him even in the slightest little bit. Everyday, I tell myself that because he is getting to know me, I must try my hardest to be the best person I can. Be a person of the world, just like him. Though I vaguely remember the stories my mother told me, I feel as though they will always stay with me. Though instead of a memory, it becomes a part of me.