My Scottish Grandpa

My grandfather raised me and my sister like daughters in his own home. With the help of my mother and grandma, he created a home for me that was so filled with love that I never felt my parents’ divorce. He proved to me that there are good men in the world, and showed me how those good men act. He taught me how to enjoy life, how to appreciate literature/knowledge, and how to face obstacles. He was something special, a miracle; you don’t meet people like him every day. I am lucky to be his granddaughter. I love you, grandpa, so much.

I get this warm feeling when I remmember those eight years living with my grandparents. 1st grade to 8th grade, they really did raise me. I think about the shortbread cookies that my grandma liked to buy. I think of the westy named Duncan that my grandpa loved so much. Westies are the dog of choice in my family, always named something scottish. I think about the notre dame cd that my grandpa played during christmas that had "christmas in killarney" on it. He lived in Chicago, he used to hang out with the irish/scottish crew. He had those suspenders and the hat. He always said we were irish too, and I believe it to an extent, but it could have been wishful thinking. Obviously there are many memories, but the scottish ones are important to me, and I feel like they should be recorded here specifically.

My grandpa loved Whisky now that I think about it. I never thought of that until now, whisky (yes im spelling it right) is a scottish drink. He specifically liked Jameson Irish whiskey (funny my brother's name is Jameson). He let me try it once and I made this really weird face because I thought it tasted just awful.

He used to be able to do those weird gibberish songs too, the ones that make a rhythm. He had eight kids, he used to tell them to make a certain sound, and when they came together it sounded cool. Stuff like "doggawaggawagga" or "skitterrattletat." My mom told me about it. He also had a scottish sense of humor. He liked to joke around with my sister and I. He told us farfetched stuff and would chuckle when we believed him. He lost a few fingers as a kid, and he used to be able to shake one of his hands really fast. I could never figure out how he did that.

The fridge of our home had the gordon crest on it. He took my mother to the NHSCOT highland games when she was younger....there is just so much. He bought my sister and I Gordon tartan shorts when we were younger, and my mom said he used to dress them up in kilts because he thought it was cute (she hated it).

He was a good man.

RIP Charles Bruce Gordon II.