I typed this up on here, based on the post that I made on the morning that I found out my grandfather had passed away. This is not the exact speech that I gave - I took a couple parts out and added another story, as I was writing it down the day before the service. I cried most of the way through the speech, but felt proud that I'd been able to express my thoughts and words. For my Opa, words cannot express how much I miss you.Good Afternoon. I think most of you know who I am already, but if not, my name is Jennifer, Iggy was my grandfather and my good friend. Especially on my birthdays and , he'd tell anyone around: 'Jennifer was always my good friend.' Omi called me a couple weeks ago and asked if I would share some funny stories from when I was a kid. I don't know that these stories are so much funny, as they are fond memories of times that I had with him.
Last weekend, I was picking up some Chinese takeout for dinner, and as I waited for my order to come up, I noticed a man and his grandson, also waiting for their food. I smiled, bittersweetly picturing Opa and me, 20 years ago, waiting to pick up our pizza. I always liked spending time with him, whether it was going to pick up dinner or waiting for Mom & Omi while they shopped or going for a bike ride around the neighborhood.
One of Opa's favorite stories to recall was an afternoon when he took me to a park when he and Omi were living in Mount Prospect. While he pushed me on the swing, his wallet must have fallen out of his pocket. Being the curious kid that I was, I noticed it and asked if he'd lost his wallet. Sure enough, it was his and while I don't remember much else from that day, I do remember how thankful he was and how proud he seemed. I don't know why that memory stuck with him so much, but it was one of those stories that he'd share as evidence of what a good friend I was to him.
Opa was always a joker. As I tried to come up with some good stories to tell about him today, so many of my memories were filled with his smile and laughter. He was the one that could make my mom laugh for no obvious reason, complete with snorting and tears. I have to admit that he had the same affect on me, as well. When I'd go stay with Omi & Opa for a weekend, at bedtime, he'd come tuck me in, and we would tell one another stories until I fell asleep. I wish I could remember what those stories were about, but they seem to have escaped me. However, I do remember laughing with him like crazy.
When they moved to Crete, Opa was my compadre a lot of the time. When Mom and I would go out with Omi & Opa, we always split up for the shopping part. Omi & Mom would go shop for whatever they needed and Opa and I would hang out. One thing that it seemed like we always forgot to do on these shopping trips was to set up a meeting place and time to get back together with Omi & Mom. I remember so many of these adventures ending with Omi showing up, ticked that we weren't where they'd left us. It never bothered Opa and me very much. We kept one another entertained with knock knock jokes. My favorite was 'Orange you glad I didn't say banana,' but his were a little less overdone than mine. He tried to teach me words and phrases in Polish, but I'm not sure they ever came out right or even what they meant - Sootfooeyiminimity...Like I said, no idea what it means, but it kept us entertained.
One summer, I took swimming lessons at a local high school with another girl from down the street. Opa drove us both to lessons and would sit in the stands, watching. He was always amazed at how much I loved the water. He thought it was the funniest thing watching this little girl jumping in the 12 foot deep water. I'd splash in, swim to the ladder and do it all over again. The other girl that took lessons with me didn't know what to call him, so she called him Opa, too. Boy, did that get under my skin. I remember thinking
That's MY Opa! Not hers! She can't call him that! Only child syndrome, I suppose.
When I got a little older, Opa used to take me on bike rides all over the neighborhood. He had an odometer on his bike and we'd track how far we'd gone. Exploring new streets, riding up and down the hills by the golf course. Since Omi & Opa lived just a few blocks from our house, I could ride my bike over to their condo. I'd park in back and knock on the glass door, announcing that I was there. We would all sit down at the kitchen table, drink orange soda and play cards until it was time for me to go home. It was like having a best friend in the body of my grandfather.
After a while, I got to know the streets and I knew where I was and wasn't allowed to go, so I started to go on those long winding bike rides on my own. I thought I was so cool, riding around without a care in the world. I was about a mile from the house and out of nowhere, my front tire found a pothole and I flipped my bike, injuring myself and the bike so badly that there was no way I'd be able to ride home. After a couple moments of panic, I walked myself to the nearest house, hoping that they were home and sane, and asked to use their telephone. I called home, and in ten minutes or less, Opa showed up to bring me and my busted bike back home.
He came to my rescue on more than one occasion. When I was in high school, my first job was at a family fun center. They had, among other things, bumper boats. On one particularly slow day, I was working the boats and a man and his young daughter wanted to ride. Since there was no one else around to ride on the boats, I got in one, so that they would have someone to bump around with. After their time was up, I called them back to the dock and started to hook my own boat up, so that I could help them out. I had one foot on the dock and one foot on the boat, and before I could hook it up, the boat started drifting away from the side of the pool. I tried with all my might to pull the boat back to the dock, but before I knew it, I was in the pool, fully clothed and soaked from head to toe. To make matters worse, I just happened to be without a car that day. Again, I called home and Opa came and picked me up in my wet clothes, brought me back home to change and then drove me back to work.
Opa and I had a lot of good times together. He was so many things to me - my buddy, my chauffeur, my babysitter, my playmate, my Opa. I love him and miss him more than I can ever express. But I can't imagine that he'd want me to be sad for him. I know that he lived a long, fulfilled life and that he would have wanted me to focus on the happy times that we had. So, I'd like to close with one of our old knock knock jokes.
Knock Knock! Who's there? Canada! Canada Who? Canada be the trees that fills the breeze with warm and magic perfume.
Things have been pretty craptastic lately, and I've been kind enough to share the poop with ya'll. But I think maybe I'm starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel.