10 years

Today marks the 10th anniversary of my Grandpa Wager's passing. Well, sort-of. He actually died on February 29. I often think he did that so we wouldn't have an annual reminder.

Even if he hadn't died in February, February would still make me think of him. Growing up we took a two week vacation every February to visit Grandma & Grandpa in Florida. It always coincided with President's day, because the Daytona 500 was run the day before. February always meant spending time with my grandparents, going to this magical place full of sunshine and love. And food. My grandmother was an amazing cook, and no matter what time of day we got there, she would have a huge meal prepared. I was never able to eat when we travelled. I remember getting to Grandma's one night at 11pm, and all we wanted to do was go to bed, but she had a ham dinner waiting for us. With her homemade rolls. And she would not let us go to bed until we ate.

February has become less magical now that I'm an adult. It seems that winter will never end. Everything is grey-the trees have long ago lost their leaves, the snow has this gray dingy look to it. The snow is not as pretty as it was in December. We are ready for spring, although deep down we all know that in 6 months we'll be griping about the heat. February also holds the personal memories of my grandfather's death. His brother died in February too. Actually, their father died in February as well. I guess February was not a kind month to the Wager men.

It is also a time for the memories. This year more than others I have felt as if I was wrapped in the memories each day. In the past ten years, I've had moments where I feel like I'm forgetting him. But this year, the memories came one after the other. I found myself talking about him more. And while I still miss him, the memories felt warm; comforting.

Grandpa was a very gentle soul. He was soft spoken, and didn't say a lot. Although he could talk up a storm if he wanted to. He had an incredible green thumb- something he didn't seem to pass on to any of us. My grandfather could grow anything. I remember him taking grafts of different trees and creating his own oranges. Their backyard in Florida was full of trees-grapefruit, orange, honeybell. He would go outside every morning and tend to his trees and plants. He would pick oranges for us and bring them inside, and then he would make fresh squeezed orange juice for my sister and I. It was warm, and light, and so sweet. Orange juice was never my favorite, but I loved Grandpa's orange juice. Then he would read his paper. I am pretty sure he read every article in the paper, every day.

My Grandfather was the first bookworm I knew. He loved to read. For years, it was always easy to get him something for Christmas. We just went to the book store. Often, we went to the Civil War section. Grandpa was a Civil War buff. He could talk about the Civil War in depth, from both sides. When we took a family vacation to Gettysburg in 2003, all of us felt his presence with us. I have become a Civil War buff as well. I think that is when I miss him the most. I will read about a general, or a battle, and have the urge to sit down and talk about it with my Grandfather. He loved all history. I remember when I was maybe 10, he sat down and told me the history of our town- I was amazed that he knew about all of this stuff that happened before he was born. He had a panoramic picture of our town, Berlin, NY, taken a few years before his own birth, yet he knew what every building was in the picture. I remember him carefully going over it with me. I honestly think I got my love of books and history from him. My sister shares the love of history. We consider it one of the best gifts he gave us.

He was a patient man. He would sit with us as we did our school work. We always missed a week of school in February, so we took our assignments with us. Grandpa would sit with us as we did it, answering questions and helping us if we needed it. But he wouldn't tell us the answer, he would help us figure it out. He would sit with us for hours, never getting upset.

My Grandfather was the smartest person I ever met. He just seemed to know everything. But not in the show-off, know-it-all way. I always admired him.

He could also be very funny. His sense of humor was very dry, and when you would least expect it Grandpa would come up with something that would leave you in tears. He was such a huge part of my life. I miss him daily. But he has sent us a terrific gift, my niece Sydney. Sometimes she has a look, just like he used to. She's quite an amusing girl, so she's probably got his sense of humor too. And she already loves books. In another six months or so, we will have another gift from heaven. I feel Grandpa with me every day. So while I still miss him tremendously, I know he is not completely gone.

This picture is how I remember him- sitting in his chair reading. Oddly enough, it also helps me remember my Grandma. Do you see that the lamp is still wrapped in it's protective plastic? Her lamps were always kept covered in plastic to keep them nice. The couches had slip covers on them. When I watch re-runs of Everybody Loves Raymond, and see Marie's living room- I think of my Grandma.