On turning one hundred

This year both my maternal grandparents, had they lived that long, would have turned one hundred.  I loved them both dearly and miss them both very much.  I lost my grandfather when I was just four and my grandmother when I was in my twenties; both too soon in my opinion.

Today would have been my grandfather's birthday.  I remember quite a bit about him, considering I was only four when he died.  He was a joyful, loving man who would take me down to the corner store whenever we visited to buy me a little bag filled with the candies of my choice.   I remember he used to smoke cigars and watch Hockey Night in Canada (or La Soirée du Hockey, as he knew it) and, to this day, the smell of cigar smoke and the sound of the (old) theme song of Saturday night hockey evoke his presence for me.  I have a tape recording of part of a family gathering that features his very joyful voice.  I doubt very much that without it I would remember what he sounded like, but that recording, too, has the power to bring him back to me when I listen to it.

So on this your hundredth birthday, to you Grandpapa I want to say bonne fête and, nous ne t'oublierons jamais...  we will never forget you.

.