Of my beloved Grandfather, Richard “Dick” Pierce.
One of Rosemary’s (of Zona Rosa fame) writing prompts is, “write about the thing you most don’t want to write about.” My grandfather is probably number two or three, if not number one. I’m not sure why I feel so close to him considering he died when I was so young (only 14). I wrote the story of how he died last year around his death, which is actually December 1st, 1998. Exactly ten years ago today.
It still wrenches my heart when I think about him. Even on my wedding day, the happiest day of my life, I thought about him. In order to honor his memory, I bought a tiny silver picture frame charm that my florist attached to my bouquet. When I heard the flowers had arrived to the venue, I was so excited that I practically skipped over in my dress to survey them. When I picked up my bouquet however, I couldn’t hold the tears in. The other girls came over and wanted to know what was wrong, and I said, “nothing, absolutely nothing.” One of them, a good friend since 7th grade, had the pleasure of knowing him too, and when she saw the charm she also started to cry. “You bitch, I wasn’t ready for that,” she said jokingly through her tears.
This is one of my favorite photos of him because it’s exactly how I imagine a busy newspaper room to look like. It breathes life. And that’s how I want to remember him.
Thanks baby girl. This means a lot to me too.