My Granddaddy.

My grandfather was the world's most talented man.
I grew up thinking it and I have often wondered if my childlike awe was disguising what would seem mediocre to everyone else - as an adult, I still hold to the fact that he was the most talented person ever.
I will sometimes look at a canvas that he artfully stroked with a brush and turned into a masterpiece and wonder how he never got 'discovered'.
I look all around in the houses of my family and see countless displays of extreme talent. He was a phenomenal artist. He did oil paintings, wood sculptures, metal sculptures, ceramics. To this day, ceramic pieces that he did free-hand artwork on wins at state fairs and such.
He died in early April of 1995 - I think it was 1995. I was 14.
He was gentle. He had history. The kind of history you don't hear about anymore.
He served the United States in WW2. He showed me his shrapnel scars once - I'll never forget that. Those war stories were the real deal. So much sadness behind them.
He had a crush on Connie Chung. I don't think he really did - he just acted that way to bug my grandmother.
He was a video pirate. He collected everything. Pennies. Notepads. Glass insulators. A true collector.
If my granddaddy did anything at all, he did it with every ounce of himself. And you better believe it was great!
His laugh was laughing perfected. To this day, I have never heard a laugh that was so free, so pure, or more memorable. Sometimes when I look at my dad, I think of my granddaddy...
He was an extraordinary musician. He taught himself how to play the organ during his severely impoverished childhood by breaking into the local church at night. One night, one of the church members (maybe the pastor) stuck around to see who had been breaking into the church each evening. When my granddaddy (9 years old at the time?) broke in and began playing the organ, the church member couldn't believe it! They were so amazed at his talent and the fact that he taught himself that they gave him the organ!!
He sang so beautifully. I have not heard anything like it. I would give anything to hear him sing again.
Sometimes I miss him so much. When I miss him the most, I'll go into my kitchen and try my best to replicate a favorite snack that we used to share.
I still haven't mastered it - peanut butter and honey mixed together on bread, or just licked off a spoon.
He made it all the time. I used to look forward to trips to his house so we could share our tasty snack together. He always made me feel so special.
I know why I can't make that peanut butter and honey taste the same.
It's because he's the reason it tasted so good.
I loved my granddaddy.
He loved Jesus.
I'll see him again someday-
but today, I miss him.