Many young children see their parents as superheroes. But as a child, whenever I was asked who my superhero was, I didn’t know how to answer. My parents were just human: imperfect and flawed, but loved by me nonetheless. It wasn’t until two weeks after my seventeenth birthday that I finally realized who my superhero had been all along: my grandpa.

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          When I was in preschool, Mom and Dad were both working, and couldn’t always pick me up from school on time. So, Grandpa came to pick me up. I climbed into the backseat of his big, silver Ford pickup truck, and he drove me to McDonald’s. He bought me a McNugget Happy Meal; the only item on the McDonald’s menu I would eat. I ate the fried ‘skin’ off of the nuggets and showed him, because I knew it would make him laugh. I drank all of my milk and ate all of my apple slices. He pulled into the driveway, and this was my favorite part. Mom wasn’t home yet, so while we sat in the driveway and listened to the radio, I got to sit in the front seat next to Grandpa. I ate the grapes he brought for me and shoved them in my cheeks like a chipmunk so he would laugh. I was disappointed when it came to an end.

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          Just about two years later, on my third day of first grade, I fell on the playground. I didn’t feel pain as I was in shock, but I knew I was hurt and that it was bad. I sobbed as the teachers took me to the school nurse’s office and called 911. They called Mom to come see me, but she was at work a few cities over. So Mom called Grandpa. She told me afterwards that he passed the ambulance while he was on his way to me that day. When he rushed into the school nurse’s office, something changed for me. I was terrified, and I had no idea what was happening to me, but now my grandpa was here. Things will be alright with him here.

 

          As Grandpa got older, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. And as the years passed, it progressed. He didn’t do as much yard work anymore. He spent most of his time watching TV. Eventually, he and Grandma moved into a nursing home. I knew he would forget things, people, and eventually me. But the day he didn’t remember me was a shock. But I could tell that behind his confused eyes, he felt it was right for me to be there. I was lucky enough to be able to spend one last Christmas with my Grandpa before he passed the next month. 

         It’s been hard to learn to live without him. How are you supposed to live when your superhero is gone? Sometimes, I can barely make it through the day because all I want is to visit him. When Grandpa was diagnosed, Mom told us that no matter what he forgets, we’re always etched in his heart. And I know that wherever we go when we die, my superhero is there, and he’s cheering me on every step of the way.