This is my pap-pap Hrach as I remember him. Wearing that white tee, putting Christmas or birthday bows on his head (I think a good 40 percent of the photos I have of Pap are with bows on his head).
The 17 of March is (was) his birthday. I always remember when I was little being so pleased on St. Patricks' Day that I was part Irish, that we lived on Irish road, and that Pap's birthday was on St. Patrick's day. What could be more Irish than that.
Today I was thinking about him and my Grandma Hrach alot. I thought how we rolled down the big steep hill on the left side of their yard... while I was feeding the baby peanut butter for lunch, I thought about how they used to through the ends of the loaves of bread out to the birds, and just how much fun I had in that house with them.
I miss them. And I don't often wax poetic about missing my loved ones. But I do. And today, I'll wear green, and think about Pap-pap, and miss the people that are gone a lot, and maybe be a little sad.
1 comment:
I love this post.
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