November 28th

Today is my grandfather, Joseph Edward Flynn's, birthday. He would be one hundred and two years old. He died in 1984 when he was only 75. My grandmother, his wife, went on to live another 25 years. It is hard to imagine that he has been gone that long, and that he has not been alive during so much of her life and of mine. I was pregnant with our first baby when he died. It is hard for me to realize too that our boys don't know him at all. Didn't know him. He taught me how to play gin rummy, was one of the first adult males I knew, observed, loved. Although he was a distinguished military man who retired to become an academic professor, he was lovable. Wow, I'm getting old. Those early memories are so present to me... his eyes, his hair, his hands, the way he walked, the way he did dishes, the way he held the steering wheel when he drove the car. He certainly had a twinkle in his brown Irish eyes. My mother and my sister Peggy resemble and therefore remind me of him. Happy Birthday, Grandfather. I miss you.