My Bumpa

I am  not sure why, but I found myself thinking about my Grandpa today.  Or Bumpa, as I called him.

He passed away a few years ago, and from time to time happy memories drift into my head of him and all that he brought to my life.

I never knew my dad, and that is ok, because I had my Bumpa.

This is the man that took care of me my whole life.  Taught me how to swim and ride a bike.  Played You Are My Sunshine on his mandolin for me, anytime I asked.  Played Old Maid with me until I was sure he wanted to go nuts.  Would "oil" my Big Wheel Powder Puff for me when it needed "maintenance".

He was a Navy Man, who would not tell me any Navy stories until later in life and my husband (Ex) was around, as stories like that were not for ladies.  He was covered in tattoos, each one faded, but still had a story to tell.  He put salt in his beer.  He mixed the perfect amount of jam and butter together to put on his biscuits and always made mine the same way.

He wasn't perfect, and that is ok because none of us are.  He loved my Grandma will all his heart. He loved the rest of us as well.  He had a soft spot in his heart for my mom, when all of the rest of knew she was a lost cause and had given up on her.  He saw the good in her, that I will assume might be there, but none of the rest of us ever saw.

He walked me down the isle when I got married and that is the only photo from my wedding day that I still have around the house.  He made me feel safe and loved.

He was my Bumpa.