He was the pillar of our family – any structure or cohesiveness we had dissolved once he was gone, so it hits me fresh once in a while, when my mom and her siblings are arguing, or when holidays come around.
I only have snippets left, really.
My grandpa took me on my first and only crabbing and clamming trips.
He supplied with piles of books as a kid – I rarely read them, but I have a deep affection for books, now, and heap them on my nieces.
I lived in San Diego until I was 4. He once flew down from Oregon and helped me plant radishes.
He’s buried about a block from where I work, so I occasionally pick up a plain black coffee and a maple bar, and walk over to share with him – he gets the coffee and I get the maple bar.