I have lots of good memories, with lots of people. But the one memory that has shaped me was spending 2 days with my great grandpa Don up in Montana by myself.
My great Grandpa (Don) Friske is one of the few people in my life, that I felt I didn't need to impress at all. There were so many things that we talked about that he could of turned, and looked at me, and kindly asked me to leave his home. But he didn't.
Instead he:
-Made us a sandwich to share (:
-Watched and explained more westerns to me than I'll ever be able to recall
-Held his hand as I helped him up the stairs at a restaurant, and his gratitude
-His salty kisses
-His voice. I couldn't really describe it if I was asked to. But I can hear it crystal clear in my head
-His hands. He's missing his pinkie on his left hand. You can't tell unless you look for it, but when he was holding my hand as I helped him up the stairs, I couldn't help but notice how time had changed his hands completely. I wrote a poem about it, but didn't post it.
My grandpa loves me for who I am.
I miss you grandpa. Please come visit soon!!!!!
I love you!!!!!!!
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