Jim was my grandfather, a step-grandfather, at that, but he was father to me. I wanted to blog all he was, but I remembered I did it before: My hero I read through that blog and found myself unexpectedly emotional. I loved him. He gave so much and asked so little in return. His was the calming voice when everyone was upset over the latest family ruckus. He wasn't cuddly or huggy or anything. He was just there... and strong... dependable.
So I hung out my Glook. Just because.
This past week, I was wearing my coin. I still remember the day I picked it up. I was about 5 or 6, I think. Jim and I were walking down Rink Street. I don't remember where we were going. I saw the coin and picked it up. "What's that you have there? A lucky penny?" He told me I couldn't spend it, but that it was special anyway. I clutched my 10 pence all the way home. There, Jim drilled a hole in the coin and put a chain on it. The chain was miles too long for the little girl, but perfect for the woman I am now. It's strong, dependable, no-frills, just as he was... and made with love.