A Love Letter

Dear Dyda,

Well, I always knew someday I would write this letter to you. I had just hoped that it would be a bit longer until I did. Alas, God had other plans.

You see, I have always considered myself one of the luckiest persons ever to be to not only have one incredible father, but two. Bama and you were like the extra set of parents any gal of seven siblings needed. Not only were you MY grandfather, but you managed to adopt just about every friend that I have ever had. Nearly all my friends tell me that they have always considered you THEIR granfather, as well.

All my earliest memories have you in it. Dyda, you I often think of those weekends in Snug Harbor, all the kids running around, you on those mini-bikes and dazzling us all with your ability to water ski. You, Daddy and Uncle Denny shooting off your firework display for the cheering audience each Forth of July remains the highlight of my childhood. You had infinite patience with those rugrats running about climbing on your things, breaking your things, moving your things. Maybe you didn't, really, but it sure felt like you did to us.

As I got older, my relationship with you just blossomed. I cannot remember any situation that I might have found myself in during my teen years that I did not tell you and Bama. As a matter of fact, I remember very clearly driving home late one Friday night when I was in high school. I was pulled over for the first of my many speeding tickets. The police officer said, "Well, Missy, where are you coming from at this late hour?" I said, "My Grandparent's house". He said, "Yeah, right. On a Friday night?" I was like, "Yeah, where else would I be?" He let me off (so thank you for that, by the way).

When life got tough in Atlanta, you opened your home to me so that I could finish school in my mid-twenties. That time, our "roomie" time, means more to me than I can say. You saw me through many boyfriends (most of whom you hated but would NEVER let me know until we broke up!) but we always kept our Thursday night date nights at the Arby's. Why did I need a boyfriend when I had my main squeeze at home?

I also remember our Jeopardy nights when I had to work the night shift. I would take my 15 minute break just at the end of Jeopardy so we could play our little game, Guess the Final Jeopardy Answer Based Only on the Category. Maybe we should have thought of a better title for that game. But, nonetheless, your answer to my answer was always the same. "Oh, no, no, no, that's too obvious!"

I was also in awe of your ablity to fix anything. Anything at all. I would come home with my car "acting funny", a few minutes later, it was fine. I used a hairdryer that you rewired and rigged with duct tape for about 7 years. Even when your sight was failing, you were a marvelous instructor. "See that red line, cut it." "Uh, seriously, Dyda? I'm not a mechanic at all." "Dahlin' cut it!" Ok! All was always well.

As I got married and moved to Dallas, distance separated us, again, but not certainly in my heart. Dyda, seeing you with Bama has always served as my role model for a perfect marriage. You were two people who loved each other desperately, always respectful of each other and had ability to make the other laugh so hard! You two were truly a united front, a force to be reckoned with. Now that I am married, I know that took such hard work but you two made it look so easy.

Dyda, more than anything, I'll miss seeing your wonderful face and hearing those words, "Hi Daaahhhhlin', Hi Sugar Baby!!!!" as I enter the room.

I know you are up there with Bama, Uncle Denny, your Dad, Mom and brother, Alice, and all those whom you have loved. We got you for 93 years, so, I guess it is just their turn.

I love you so much, my handsome fella.

Always,
Your Roomie