My favorite person ever, my grandfather, and I were always super close. I always have felt lucky to know him at all, as he was 70 years old when I was born. We didn't need to "talk" much, as I was a shy child and he only talked when necessary. He was known for being quiet, speaking rarely and only when necessary. He listened more than he spoke, and he was extremely intelligent. Everyone would stop to listen whenever he did decide to speak about anything. I always felt like we were kindred spirits of sorts.
I would always draw pictures and cards for him as a child (I was/am artistically inclined). However, most adults, as adults tend to, would take my pictures/cards, exclaim over them a bit and set them aside. My Grandpa was different. He would ANALYZE them. He would hold the picture/card in his hands and literally stare at it, as if he were taking in each and every detail I had created. I always felt truly special when he would treat them like they were actual famous works of art. After he passed away, in 2009, my grandmother gave me EVERY SINGLE PICTURE AND CARD I HAD EVER GIVEN HIM. He kept them all. Every single one.
I think what amazed me more than anything was the fact that he would speak to me quietly whenever we were alone in a room together. I asked my other family members when I was older if he spoke to them when they were alone together - he didn't. He only had one-on-one conversations with me. He's always been my favorite person, and I am sad my husband only missed meeting him by a few months. My Grandpa taught himself to do wood-working, and so did my husband. My Grandpa actually built a Granddaughter Clock for my 1st Christmas. He started to make a Hope Chest for when I got married, but his hands stop being able to do wood working before he was able to finish it. My husband and I finished it last year, and it now sits at the foot of our bed. My Granddaughter Clock is in our dining room.
Fast forward to current, my first pregnancy, which ended in miscarriage, we found out the baby's heartbeat was gone on the Date of my Grandpa's death. On Sunday, will be the 1st day I'll be able to take another pregnancy test, the Date of my Grandpa's birth. Odd, perhaps. Erie, maybe. Coincidence, likely.
I will however, remain optimistic, and take it as a sign.