Thirty Years Gone but Not Forgotten; A Letter to My Pop-Pop, My First Best Friend

This Christmas will mark thirty years since the passing of my mom’s dad, or the person I like to call my Pop-Pop. To be quite honest I've been lost in my thoughts for a few days now.

Late last year I was presented with the opportunity to become a Florida SAND Fellow. The Florida SAND fellowship has allowed me not only to continue my writing which I have been neglecting for the last couple of years but equally as important, it has allowed me to strengthen my advocacy skills. There have been ups and downs throughout my fellowship but as they say, things happen when they are supposed to. As a result of my fellowship, I finally found the best friend I have been searching for my entire life. Nearly ten months ago on a dare from my caregiver, I approached my now girlfriend Samantha Lebron and started a conversation. I did not know it at the time, but God put me right where I needed to be. 

For the longest time, I held a belief that I could never date someone in a wheelchair because of the childish assumption that our physical limitations would get in the way. Boy was I wrong! I now have not only found someone who I can bounce ideas off of, but my little blue-haired alien is just as quirky and nerdy as me. I never thought my dreams of traveling the world, starting a family, or exploring what it means to have a disability on a deep level would be shared by anyone. Recently during a conversation with my dad, my feelings were affirmed when he said something to the effect that he and my mom have seen a great deal of maturity and growth in me since I started dating Samantha. He also shared that Samantha was God’s answer to his prayers. Before Samantha, he was unsure if I would ever find a true best friend not simply because of my disability but more so because of my lack of self-confidence and maturity. As much as I argue and fight with your dad, you couldn’t be more right, you hit the nail on the head. Thank you for your kind words and vote of confidence; it means the world to me. 

The concerns that my dad brought up in our conversation about my newfound maturity have bothered me for the longest time. I too never thought I would experience some of the things I have. Along with this thought, I have also often questioned whether or not I am a person that my grandfather would be proud of. I looked up to him like no one else. He was my first hero. He never saw my disability as something that made me different. He always treated me as if I was his best friend. I feel that on some level I have let him down. I have not always been the person that I am today. I can say that until recently I did not like who I was. I was one of the most negative people I knew, on the inside anyway. I have always been good at putting on a brave face and happy demeanor for my friends and family, but I have never been proud of who I am. All that changed quite suddenly. 

As I was going for a roll the other day, it hit me for the first time that this year is the 30th anniversary of my grandfather’s death. As I started to cry and feel sorry for myself, a negative thought crossed my mind. I felt as if evil forces in the universe were reinforcing the idea that I indeed was a disappointment to him. As if in response to my thoughts, it suddenly started to lightly rain. Immediately I stopped crying and a broad smile came across my face. I realized that the rain was my grandfather sending his love from heaven to reassure me that I am indeed on the right path and not a disappointment after all. 

Thank you, Pop-Pop, you have always been there when I needed you even if I didn’t know it. Although you are not here with me you will forever remain in my heart. I love and miss you every day. 

Jay