My Old Red Truck

This blog is going to be a more serious, tear jerker(at least from my perspective) so bear with me kids.

Ever since I can remember my entire family (mom, dad and two sisters) has gone over to my Grandpa's house for brunch on Sundays. There, we created many happy memories, eating pancakes with syrup and bacon, watching old cartoons and reading mystical stories curled up on my Grandpa's lap. I loved going over and spending time with him.

Now, my Grandpa owened a red pickup truck for the longest time. I loved the colour and smell of that old truck. Looking back I question why I loved it so much, it was old, messy and kind of rusty. I guess it was because it reminded me of my Grandpa. When I was about 10 he sold the old red truck and bought a new grey one. I was very upset about that, so he made me a little wagon out of wood painted the same colour as his old red truck. He would joke about how that would be the car I would learn to drive in, and he promised me he would teach me. Regardless, my Grandpa was always very supportive of me and encouraged me to do well in school and constantly be in search of more knowledge and skill. Even when I was a teenager, he constantly encouraged me to get my driver's license. At least he did, until he passed away on my 16th birthday, on August 26, 2012.

Okay, deep breath Caitlin. Wipe the tears from the monitor, we need to finish this for Mr. Olson.

So when he did pass away, it was tough on my entire family, but mostly on me and my mom. One of my last conversations with him was about how my 16th birthday was coming up, and how I would finally be old enough to go get my G1, and planned to take the test within the week. Naturally, when ever I think about that last conversation; holding onto his frail hand while sitting on his old creeky bed in his little room at the retirement home as he slowly drifted in and out of consiousness, I get very emotional. That, combined with the funeral schedule and the total disbelief of losing him, were the main reasons why I wasn't able to actually go obtain my G1 until November of 2012.

I remember the day I finally went to go take the test like it was yesterday. It was like I was drifting in and our of a nightmare, and it seemed like I was in a haze, drifting in and out of reality. When I sat down, test in hand, everything became too bright and it was hard to focus. I forced myself to concentrate, and finished the test fairly easily. The worst part of the whole experience was having to wait and watch the supervisor correct your test. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he called me up, congratulated me and gave me my temporary drivers license.

That feeling is exhilarating. I had finally done it, I got my G1, and made my Grandpa proud. That was the moment, I feel, that I finally realized I was growing up. I wasn't some little helpless lost child, I was a strong woman who was capable of great things and could get through even when times got tough.

All in all, I still miss my Grandpa. Whenever I think of him, it'sm almost as if someone ripped off a scab that was just starting to heal. I wonder if I'll ever be able to think about him without cerying, and I hope so. I hope I'll be able to tell my kids stories about how amazing he was and all the amazing memories I have with him. But I feel like he's smiling down at me, and truely is proud of me.