The only thing “step” about you, is how gracefully you stepped into the role of my children’s grandparent.
You’re not my dad. You never will be.
My “DAD” is in heaven, and that is, not now nor will it ever be, your role.
And though only one of my children was alive when my dad died, and even she was only a year old at the time,
he is forever “Grandpa.”
They call you by your name and so do I.
Still, in conversations with others, we often refer to you as “step-grandfather.”
Maybe that’s hard, I can imagine.
But you probably understand, I can imagine.
Because that’s how you are — understanding.
And so I want to be sure that you understand this:
The only thing “step” about you, is
how you ever so naturally stepped into the role of my children’s grandparent…
how you regularly step in to help us with whatever it is we need…
how you take a handful of steps out into youe backyard to your grill to make us steaks, ribs, sausages, wings and anything else we ask for…
how you step back or to the side if ever a moment calls for such…
how you step to the plate to show up for a baseball game or soccer match or acting show if ever we can’t and even if it’s a last-minute ask…
and how you stepped into the role of loving my kids’ Gramys in the way she wants to be loved.
Losing a parent is hard.
Losing your kids’ grandparent is hard.
But what helps to heal a broken heart is the presence of a person who’s willing to hang around and help pick up the pieces.
Families and family dynamics are like a puzzle in that they can be
hard to navigate,
and incredibly frustrating.
like a puzzle,
when the pieces fit together,
the big picture comes together,
and I want you to know this:
your piece fits and we’re incredibly glad you’re in our big picture.