Dear Grandma,

Dear Grandma,
I was informed of Grandpa's death a few days ago. I feel the best way for me to deal with the situation is to write you this letter. I have been trying to write more, but find that I am only inspired to do so when I am not feeling up to par, the writing being my counselor. Upon hearing the news I must admit I was not shocked, but rather you, my dad, and Uncle Terry were the first things to pop into my mind. I was riding my bike to Rfunsa, a nearby village, to teach some Math when Eric called me with the news. He told me how my Dad had got to have a nice conversation with Grandpa just the day before. This above all things was what brought tears to my eyes. Imagining that conversation I can only think of how pure and how rich life was at that moment. It's unfortunate, or maybe fortunate, that it takes death or near death experiences to achieve those moments. I believe my tears were not of sadness, but of gratitude that such moments can and do exist.
Thinking back on all the memories I have of Grandpa, I feel very blessed to have so many. I know that some people live with or near their Grandparents, some don't have any at all, but I was given the situation that when I visited you and Grandpa, it was always an event, and a spectacular one for that matter. I remember going fishing, even though it wasn't fishing season, with Grandpa and my Dad up in Canada on "the boat." I might as well had been on a cruise line because the food, entertainment, and hospitality was impeccable. Grandpa had all his stories of wrecking or almost wrecking the boat and I had enough food for a small army. Grandpa made me feel like I was the most talented and important person on the earth. I couldn't help but smile, giggle, and eat the entire trip.
Of course there is the famous peanut butter and jelly sandwich story. This is still of no memory to me, but Grandpa's retelling of the story will forever live on. I ate half of my sandwich and was probably full so I left it on your table and went to play. Grandpa asked if I was done eating and I said yes. What I should have said was that yes I was done but don't eat my sandwich because when I came back and found it gone I apparently threw the biggest fit. Grandpa's version of this story, not the story itself, is what makes it so great, his laughing as he told it.
I think of all things I will remember Grandpa for his love of children. Being here in Zambia, there is a lot of emphasis put on sustainability. Will our efforts last after we have left? When broken down, I think if you've made a child smile and feel good about him or herself, that's about as sustainable as you can get. This is what I saw Grandpa do best. This is what I will try to carry on. As you know, Grandpa could make children smile, especially the little ones, and they could make him smile. Even when his memory had begun to slip you knew that he wouldn't forget that you were to smile at a child. It's as though it was embedded in his DNA, memory not necessary. So, as I sit here in the middle of nowhere wondering sometimes whether I am wasting my time. I know that because Grandpa made me feel special and because he made me smile, I am able to smile that much easier today. And if he was able to do that for me, I know I should try and do that for others knowing that a smile never fades but merely reappears further down the road. There is no waste of time in that effort.
Now I know that you know all of what I have told you in a much deeper context, something in which I am envious of. I also know there was a lot I didn't know. When I think of this, I think of what Ann told my Dad one day. She said that he may not always be a nice man, but he is always a good man. I know my Dad took this to heart. While I think that Grandpa was always nice, I know that he was a Rogers which means that people may not have always seen the niceness, but I think that those that knew him always saw the goodness.
You, Grandma, somehow managed to remain both nice and good, even in the midst of Grandpa being a pain in the butt. As we learned in Tuesdays With Morrie, it is better to tell you this now rather than 50 years from now when you may not be around. Your grace and sweet disposition gives everyone a sense of peace and balance. Because of this, I know Grandpa was a better person. I remember Grandpa driving you and I in the middle of New York City after watching a taping of Spin City. We were trying to leave the city and managed to drive in one direction for an hour only to find ourselves back at the hotel where we started. Grandpa was telling me his dream of buying an old beat up car and going on a rampage through NYC hitting anything that did or did not get in his way. You were saying that it was a beautiful day and that it was great for me to see more of the city. I think I concluded that I would like tour NYC in an old beat up car, ramming anything in the way, a wonderful combination.
We all have a place in this world. I strongly believe that my place is no more or less important than the man begging for change on the street corner. We are derivatives of our parents, and our parents of their parents, and so forth. I wrote this letter on November 14th but concluding it today, the day of Thanksgiving, I am thankful that my Dad had Grandpa as a father and you, Grandma, as a mother.
I love you,
Grant
p.s. Can someone print this and give it to Grandma? Thanks.