My Immigrant Grandfather Taught Me To Love America

My grandma raised me as a child because my mother lost custody of me after she allowed her then-husband to abuse me. As a widow, she was always worried about a positive male role model. She didn't want me to have "daddy issues."

The thing is, I never thought I was missing anything. Grandma was a mom to me. She still is. When I think about my father figure, it would be her father, my great grandpa.

He was a constant in my life. He loved his family fiercely. He wanted us all to succeed. And, he was never short on giving advice to us. After all, he lived an amazing 104 years. He had tons of life experience to share.

Grandpa's Roots

When my grandma was 6, a fire destroyed their house. At that time, grandpa had to decide if he wanted to rebuild their home in England, where they lived, or move to America. He moved his family to live with his sister in Denver, Colorado.

It wasn't easy for him, but he always provided for his family. When he first came to America, he worked as a milkman. You know, the early 1920s milkmen that would deliver glass milk bottles. Well, that was his job.

After some time, he worked his way up in the church to senior pastor. His sermons were the best I've ever heard. He could take the Bible and break it down to simple terms and make it relatable to any age. It was a genuine gift.

Grandpa Was My Happy Place

I remember at 11, my English teacher asked me to write an essay on what happiness means to me. It was a simple assignment, but one I wanted to ace. I wrote about my grandpa. For many of us family members, Grandpa was happiness.

As a child, I would visit his house. He would smile at us, smile ear to ear, and greet us with the biggest hug imaginable. As an adult, he was a constant in our lives. He would call us often, just to listen to us.

If you had a problem, he had the answer. If you wanted to just talk, he always had something on his mind.

I aced my essay. My teacher put a note on my paper. "I would love to meet your grandpa one day."

Grandpa Never Judged

Grandpa had this amazing ability to connect with anyone. If your life was a mess, he would laugh and say, "You may not have it figured out yet, but you'll get there. Life is a journey. You're destined for greatness."

Growing up, I didn't consider grandpa would eventually die. I took him for granted. When I was 16, he had triple bypass surgery. It was very serious, and we weren't sure if he would make it. But he did.

One day, grandma was just outside his hospital room talking to his doctor. I walked into his room to sit with him for a little while. He had hiccups. He told me they won't go away, and it was hurting his incision.

Grandpa broke down and cried from the pain. It broke me. I wanted to make his pain stop. This man had been bigger than life for me. I thought he was superhuman. Now, something as simple as hiccups made him cry. I had never seen him cry.

This man didn't shed one tear when Marsha, my cousin who died at 8, passed away. He stayed strong for the whole family. He delivered a powerful eulogy. But hiccups, that was what brought him to tears.

I ran to grandma's side and told her they got to get him something to stop the hiccups.

"He's crying, grandma. Make it stop. He said he wanted to die if it didn't stop," I cried.

Grandma reassured me he would feel better soon. I never forgot that moment. Even now, decades later, I still remember his tears.

Graduation Day

When I graduated from high school, grandpa was so proud of me. I did what no one since my grandma did. I graduated with honors, a 4.0 GPA, and I had a full ride scholarship. For him, being an immigrant, he was so proud of my success.

I felt such happiness as I took the stage to give my speech to my class. I saw my grandma, grandpa, and all of my graduating classmates. I credited my family for my success. They taught me that this country doesn't owe me anything. I must work for everything. All they owe me is the right to pursue my dreams. It was up to me to make it happen.

As proud as I was for my achievements, it was a big day for him, too. He was part of the reason I made such good grades. He helped edit my college admission essays.

Grandpa Called Me In College

In my sophomore year of college, grandpa called me out of the blue. He wanted to tell me he loved me. He was missing me, but he understood I was in college. I was 1600 miles away in Miami. I promised to visit soon.

A few days later, grandma called me to let me know she went to check on grandpa and he wasn't breathing. He died in his sleep at 104.

I couldn't fight the tears. He was gone. My slice of heaven on earth had died. We knew it was coming. After all, he was 104. But it was too soon. We wanted to believe he was immortal.

After his death, I reflected on his life and legacy. He taught the whole family to love our country. He believed USA was the best place on earth. Often I wonder what he would think about our country today. I don't know how he would feel about the conflict between racism, police brutality, and other political issues.

One thing I do know, he would still tell me America is a great place to live. I've tried to teach my children the same values. However, it doesn't mean the same anymore. He had true patriotism, not the kind associated with the right-wing conservatives.

He really loved America, and he believed in this great country. His legacy was giving us roots. He told us all about our family. Grandpa taught us to respect authority. And he provided a safe place for everyone. He would listen to your problems without judgement, and always responded to us in love.

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Originally posted on Medium.