My dad is the most amazing man ever. He gave us the happiest childhood a girl could imagine. He was the type of dad that they create in novels about people who live in neighborhoods with white picket fences. He was that awesome. He was the one who helped us build tree forts, let us have candy before dinner, and always had one of us around his neck. He built us lemonade stands and then drove all of the neighborhood kids to 7-eleven to buy Doritos and slurpees with the change we had earned. He was always outside- tinkering on the cars in the garage, pushing us (a little too high) on the tire swing, giving us rides on his lawn mower, or getting in trouble by my mom for suggesting that the giant puddle behind the shed out back would be "perfect for making mud pies." He was always laughing, always telling stories, and always smelled like GoJo and motor oil. Once we were older, I remember being so excited to see him do all of these things with my children.
I knew he would be the best PopPop ever.
A few years ago my dad got sick. Slowly, the dad I described above, slipped away.
When I had Q, I knew things would be different. I knew they would be would be hard.
But, I don't think any of us understood the extent of it.
Of all of the many things my dad is no longer able to do- I think one of the hardest things for him is not being able to hold his grand daughter.
Not being able to swing her over his shoulders or give her rides around the house on his lawn mower. It kills him. And it kills all of us to watch.
This Christmas it was hard.
Q doesn't know why PopPop won't pick her up when she pulls on his jeans.
She doesn't get it.
One morning we were lying around the living room in our pjs and I turned around and saw Q trying to get my dad to pick her up. I grabbed my camera and snapped away. Not because it was a happy moment, but because any moment between Q and her PopPop is a memory I want to capture.
His face in the second picture says it all.
It kills me to look at this because I know he is so frustrated that he can't just reach down and lift her up.
I love this picture, and hate it at the same time.
Well, that little girl of mine...she is one determined monkey!
I turned to go into the kitchen and my mom just pointed back towards my dad...
When I looked back I saw my little girl, climbing her way up PopPop's leg
...with a book in her hand, nonetheless!
She plopped her little butt right on his lap and handed him her book.
We all just stood there like statues in the kitchen...watching the two of them together.
It was the first time my dad ever "held" Q unassisted.
For a few short seconds it was as if he was his old self again.
The pictures are imperfect. They were shot with shaking hands, as quickly as possible, before the moment passed.
However, they capture what might just be my most favorite memory of my girl and her PopPop together.
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