My Pop!

My Pop would have been 81 years old on Sunday! Happy Birthday to him! I still think of him so much. At times, I can feel his presence. I think he visits, not quite as often as he used to after he first died in 2000. I know that his angel's wing has kept Sophie and Hannah safe during so many close calls. At other times, like tonight, a memory hits me so hard that I cry from the overwhelming.

Ever week on the way down Jackson Road into Ann Arbor for music therapy, I glance over at the Old Farmer Grant's Greenhouse and Store. I usually say something to the girls about the great bread pudding that they had or all the Christmas ornaments I acquired there cheap when they were going out of business. They were old-time, classics left-over from another era, no cheap plastics, but solid, sturdy.

Tonight, it's gone. Not completely gone, but it's in the process of being torn down, must be either to make way for the boulevard expansion or the new housing/retail development going in. I knew that it wouldn't sit vacant there as a shrine to my childhood, but it just hit me. I didn't even need to close my eyes, which was good, since I was the driver.

I flashbacked to walking up and down the aisles. As my Daddy was chatting with one of the Grants or picking out a nice cut of meat, I'd be looking at the candy, cookies, muffins (orange...my favorite! never had another that good since!), or across the entranceway at all the treasures, the flowers and gifts. And oh, we had to go and look at the fountain on the east side of the small greenhouse at the front.

Tonight, I could feel being there, pushing the cart down the warm foods/bakery aisle under that low ceiling. I felt Dad behind me. I felt that warm, safe, security. I really needed that feeling tonight, that reminder of feeling taken care of. I miss that Old Man! My heart hurts.