Thank you for being my joy.

Thank you for teaching me the meaning of the word "inquisitive" at age four. I distinctly remember you telling me that I am inquisitive. I remember your facial expression exactly, and I remember the precise tone of your voice. Immediately I asked, "What does that mean?" And you just grinned the way you did and said, "It means that you ask a lot of questions."

Thank you for never questioning my ambitions. From the time I wanted to play in the WNBA, to the time I wanted to be a doctor to invent a pill that would "make you live forever," you had no questions-- only support. At the time I was only 5, and the pill was being designed with Eulah and Nanny in mind. But oh, how I wish I had succeeded in my invention.

Thank you for coaching my elementary school basketball team when no one else wanted to step up and do it. Maybe this was also your way of showing support for the WNBA dream. ;) Typically a parent would have, but there were only 7 or 8 of us from such a tiny farm school. So you did it. Because that's exactly how you were.  My grandparent from another state volunteered to be the basketball coach for a group of elementary school girls who had an affinity for lipgloss and hairspray. Thank you for buying each of us sterling silver basketball-shaped earrings at the end of the season. I know that to this day, each one of those girls remembers who you are.

Thank you for teaching me about opinions and assumptions at a young age. ;) Both having to do with either being an asshole or having one.

Thanks for following me around in that golf cart the one time I ran a 5k in your hometown. Despite the fact that I was only out less than 25 minutes, you jacked a golf cart to park at every corner of the course. 100% Ray Redman move. And thank you for keeping me humble. Or trying at least. It was a holiday 5k, and I was dressed as a Christmas tree. There was another girl there with a giant bow on her butt. I made fun of her costume, and she ended up beating me. -_- You jovially reminded me of that at the end, you turd. But thank you. You were right. And thank you for standing outside for hours at my other races, excitedly reporting to me which place I was in, even when I was struggling and didn't care. Your presence was all I needed. Yours and Mamaw's.

Speaking of jacking golf carts, thank you for teaching me that it's okay and a little badass to bend the rules and do whatcha please if the time is right and you're not hurtin' anybody.

Thank you for teaching me that if you fall down, it's okay to lay there and laugh at yourself. You did this exactly at Alli's birthday party one summer when we were playing a huge family game of wiffle ball. You slid into a base and also slid into the ground. Flat on the ground. This resulted in uncontrollable laughter from most of the party, but not me. Once I saw you were okay I could laugh a little. You handled such a moment in the way that only you could.

Thank you for attending every event possible that I've ever participated in, whether or not it interested you. Actually, I think you always made it interesting. For yourself and for others. I don't mean that in a "funny" way either. Before I was in track, you were never interested in track. But you came with me to my first invitational where I was the sole high jumper for my school. I remember you were the only one able to come, and that afterward we ate at the Bob Evans farm. We drove home in your gold Buick.

Thank you for sitting on my feet when they were cold.

Thank you for marrying Mamaw.

Thank you for my middle name.

Thank you for telling me that only the smartest people have gaps in their teeth when I was 6 and self conscious about my gap, even though my grin matched yours.

Thank you for making my mom buy me Cocoa Puffs when I was 12. "Lori. Go buy that baby some Cocoa Puffs."

Thank you for wearing a bow-tie to my OSU graduation. I literally cried because you looked so precious.

Thank you for driving all the way to Columbus to take me home and to the hospital when I was sick. Thank you for being understanding when I got a shot in the butt on an empty stomach and nearly fainted. You laughed after the fact, but at the time you were all that I needed. Thanks for chiding that three-year-old in the waiting room who stole the pixy stix the nurses gave me to increase my blood sugar. "Hey, she needs that. Give that back!"

Thank you for taking in my Maggie Jane and loving her like you did-- your special grand cat. <3 p="">
Thanks for teaching me to embrace and love my weird self.

Thanks for not freaking out when I got your handwriting tattooed on my arm. Thanks for loving it.

Thank you for teaching me that there is always room for jokes-- that everything can be a  laughing matter if your heart is light enough. That when everything is going to hell, it's okay to laugh. Thank you for teaching me that you must create your own joy.

Thank you for being my joy.

I love you forever and always.

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I'm running a triathlon this December and raising money for a cause that I think my grandfather would have loved. In a nutshell, the Hall Steps Foundation was started by elite runners to assist impoverished areas in east Africa. They have provided clean drinking water for villages and maternity clinics for women who otherwise would not have received medical care. 100% of the proceeds go to the foundation's efforts. If you would like to participate in my memorial fundraising event, you can read about it and donate here! https://www.crowdrise.com/memorial-fundraiser/fundraiser/jamiebailey4


For more posts about my Papaw:

http://thepeacemobile.blogspot.com.es/2014/11/what-my-tattoos-meant-to-my-grandpa.html

http://thepeacemobile.blogspot.com.es/2014/11/a-small-speech-for-big-heart.html

http://thepeacemobile.blogspot.com.es/2015/07/invincible-summer.html