Working at a library, I know the patrons (people of the community). I know what they love to read and I know what they hate. Half of the time, I know what patrons want to read before they do. I know their personalities; if they are the serious type and want to leave as soon as possible or if they like to joke and stay for a bit. I know the children and what keeps them entertained. I know patrons by name.
But today, I called a patron by the wrong name.
“Hey Carl! How are ya?”
Not Carl. Carl is the name of my late grandfather and I miss him something fierce. He lost a long and tiring battle to cancer one year and five days ago. It’s been hard; these past couple of weeks. So, when I saw that patron come in all old with a twinkle in his eye and his kind smile, I thought of my grandfather.
Of course I couldn’t tell him why I called him Carl. I could only apologize and correct myself.
It’s the little things like that that I love and would love to thank my Gramps for. He is everywhere to me. I see him everyday. The gentleman ordering black coffee. He is the man with the southern drawl from West Virginia. The men ice fishing out on the lake. He is the man who calls me sweetie. He is all around.
If you take anything from my blog, take this: Those who we think we may have lost, are not lost at all. They are who we surround ourselves with everyday. All we have to do is look around.
[This is my grandfather when he was in his twenties]
[This was taken around the last couple of months of 2012]