A Gratitude Letter to My Paternal Grandfather

Hi everyone. I really want to write more and also to cherish the positives in my life, both past and present. For this reason, I opened the Gratitude app on my iPhone and had the journal feature give me a prompt. It was to write a gratitude letter to one of my grandparents. I have shared quite a few times how my paternal grandmother positively impacted my life. I could write her a gratitude letter and I may do so later on, but for today, I’m choosing to write one to my paternal grandfather.

Dear Theo

It’s been over 23 years since you passed. If there’s an afterlife, I hope there’s a way for the divine to get this letter to you. If there isn’t, I know you’ll never read this, but it helps me personally to express my gratitude for you. I think you may not have noticed it, especially since your dementia was already advanced by the time it was diagnosed, but I felt deeply touched by you even during the last few years of your life.

Your eldest son, my father, may not appreciate this about you, but I realize I got my health-conscious mind from you. I mean, it didn’t always look good on you and my parents don’t like it in me either. You were worried about cognitive and physical decline for as long as I remember. My father thought you were an nagger. I see you had a zest for life that was maybe hidden beneath anxiety.

You also taught me to listen to my body. Not that I can do it well, but at least I’m not the one to decide I’d rather die than go see a doctor.

Of course, I didn’t know you when you were young. You were 61 when I was born. As such, I don’t know whether your zest-for-life-turned-to-anxiety was always there. My father doesn’t have it (yet), at least not the anxiety part. I do. Having seen my parents’ attitude towards you and now towards me, gives me the will to be conscious of what I want in life, including at the end of it. You never had that choice. Then again, I hope you didn’t experience decline when you were my age.

Lastly, I want to thank you for the apparently insignificant details of your visits. You know, the coins worth five guilders you gave me and my sister at the end of each visit. Once, you put them in a transparent container that was screwed tight and that we couldn’t open independently. I remember it frustrated me to no end, because I wanted my coin, for goodness’ sake. However, now that I’m an adult, this is one of my cherished memories of you.

With love, Astrid