Daily Dose of Sugar Mama

My Grandpa L was my hero. I don’t exactly know why. Looking back he was no man that someone would envy or of character anyone would want. He drank too much. Spoke poorly to my Grandma. Had no patience with my brothers. But he adored me. And as a little girl that meant the world.

Grandpa L had a vegetable garden that was like a fairytale to me. In my memory it was huge; lined with perfectly shaped vegetables and fruits. He cared more for that garden than he did most people. He carefully tended to each plant and with pride showed off the reward of hard work.

In the evenings he and I would sit on his front porch swing and enjoy the breeze; him smelling of beer and sweat, a sweet perfume in my memory. He would sing to me “Hey Diddle Diddle” as fast as he could. His tongue rolling fast over each “l”. I would giggle and beg for him to sing it again.

His addiction to alcohol ravaged his brain and he had to be put in a home. No longer was he the man that bounced me on his knee, grew perfect tomatoes, or sang nursery rhymes. He didn’t remember my name or even that he was married to my Grandma.  It was heart breaking for me to watch my Grandpa L fade away.

A couple of year after he passed I was given 5 years worth of journals that my Grandpa L kept. They are of the years that I spent every day with he and my Grandma while my mother worked. These journals are his writings when his memory was accurate.

Theta Mom inspired me to write about him. We all have our own memories. We tell them our own way. The memory I try to keep of Grandpa L is the “before” days; before alcohol took his memory. And I encourage you to write down your own memories in whatever format is best for you.