Two Years- Written by Derek Gerdes

Two Years- Written by Derek Gerdes

730 days, 17,520 hours.  That is how long it has been since Boston and I waved goodbye to Dad as he grinned back, bagging groceries, so proud that his grandson came to see him at work.  I remember how he reacted to the picture Boston gave him, rubbing Boston's head, thanking him for the gift, cracking a small smile as his fellow co-workers gushed over his grandson while carefully folding the picture and putting it in his pocket.  A quick hug from Boston and a casual 'see ya later' from me and we were on our way...I wish I would of hugged him too.

It was always the little things that were most important to Dad, and that is something that I always admired about him.  I don't think in that situation, it was the picture entirely, just the fact that Boston took the time to focus and draw something for his Papa.  The time spent.  That little connection.  The little things.  His ability to cherish the simple and mundane is a characteristic that I find myself portraying in my own life, just not with as much class as Dad had.

When I take the time to really analyze it, I can see more Jigs in me that I used too.  The way I approach issues and problems.  How I simplify them into a fixable, non threatening situation, or let it be and find a way to roll with the punches.  I'm not an over-reactor, similar to Dad.  Usually things aren't as bad as they seem.

Our competitive nature used to be the same too.  The difference is mine has seemed to taper off while his was in full effect.  From bags to board games to golf, deep down he disliked a poor performance on his end.

Even our sense of humor is more similar than people think as well.  I always appreciated how simple his humor was.  I have fond memories of Dad and I watching Home Improvement together, Dad smirking at the Tool man's continuous battle with stupidity!  The thing that always made me smile inside was that Dad was a little like the Tool man, trying to fix things himself in unorthodox ways.  I guess in that sense the apple fell a long ways from the tree!

Even the things I say to Boston, I can hear Dad's voice in my head saying the same things to me when I was a boy!  "Get up!... Quit crying!...Bring the ball across your ear.... Do you know why you are in trouble?!" 

I find it interesting how valuable these memories have become to me.  Dad left lasting impressions on each of us in very different ways.  Some impressions are intimate that we keep close to our hearts and personal and others very apparent, but all valuable.  He wasn't perfect, and sometimes his flaws were quite visible.  Yet, eve, with that rigid grin, tough exterior and rough hands there was a soft, child-like, loving side of him that drew us in.  That subtle side was strong enough that his grandson would climb right up on his lap and find a notch in his arms so they could watch shows together.  That is what made him Dad...or Jerry... or Papa... or Jigs.  What ever the name is to you, that is why we love him.