by Corynne Nuckols
My very first memory of him, ever I think, is of more of a feeling than anything else. He
died when I was very little. I don’t think that I was even in school yet. All I remember of
him physically is that he was a little guy who wore black rimmed glasses. And he gave the best
snuggles. I’d sit on his lap in his recliner while he read the paper and fall asleep. He made me
feel warm and safe.
I remember I asked him to pick me up one day and hug me. He carried me to the chair
and settled me on his lap.
I knew, as children do, that something was wrong with him. That something had been
wrong with him for awhile. I just didn’t know how bad it was. Gramma came from the kitchen
and said “George, you shouldn’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.” Grampa just looked at her as he
patted my back. “Maudie, I won’t be able to do this much longer. Let me enjoy this while I can.
Please?” I saw Gramma start to cry as she turned away.
I remember asking Grampa what was wrong. He smiled a sad little smile and said “I’m
just a little sick sweetie. I’ll probably be leaving soon. Where I’m going they’ll make me all better.
But I’ll have to be gone for a long time.” I remember looking up at him and asking for sure if this
place he was going to would make him feel better. Grampa looked at me and said “Yes, I’ll
definitely be pain free where I’m going. Why?” I looked up at him and said “I’m gonna miss you
a whole lot while you’re gone Grampa, I don’t want you to leave, but if it means you’ll feel better
I guess you should. I need another hug Grampa.” He swallowed and hugged me hard. “Why do
you want so many hugs honey?” “I gotta save them up grampa. I need extra for while you’re
gone.” He sniffed and hugged me again.
He patted my back as I sat on his lap, until I fell asleep.
It’s the last time I remember seeing him. Later, when I was older, I found his blue cotton
robe folded in the back of Gramma’s closet. I kept that robe until I married my husband. By then
it was threadbare, but well loved.