He Did It His Way

This picture sums up my Pop-Pop so well.

In college I became involved with Relay for Life and when I was asked why I relayed, I would always respond, “My Pop-Pop.” Sure, I had other family members affected by cancer, but I was too young to understand cancer until the ugly disease struck my grandfather my senior year of high school.

My Pop-Pop was the patriarch of my dad’s family in every sense. We all adored him and looked to him for guidance and leadership. To be blunt, it was hard not to love the man. He was the “class clown” of the family and always played practical jokes on everyone around him. For instance, he had a cleft chin and when my cousins and I asked him what happened he made up an elaborate story of how he ran into a doorknob when he was younger. He was our hero and we ate up any and everything he said.

Pop-Pop also had a serious side, especially when it came to his family. In high school I experienced my first heartbreak. Shortly after my break-up, I was at a family party when my grandmother asked me how my boyfriend was doing. I guess she hadn’t heard the news of our split. My eyes welled with tears and my Pop-Pop immediately intervened and asked me to step outside with him. Once we excused ourselves, he pulled me into a hug without any questions and stood with me while I cried. 

My senior year of high school rolled around and with that came graduation. A few weeks before graduation my classmates and I had to turn in the names of family members and friends who would be attending our ceremony. My parents broke the news to me that my grandparents would be unable to attend. Their excuse didn’t exactly add up and I remember seething with anger that my grandparents would miss their oldest grandchild’s graduation. My dad looked hurt when I expressed my disappointment and I couldn’t comprehend why he didn’t understand my irritation. 

My graduation party took place a few weeks after my graduation ceremony. My Pop-Pop was in attendance and had to leave early because he wasn’t feeling well. He came up to me with tears in his eyes and apologized profusely. That's the first time a warning bell went off in my head that something could be wrong.

Later that night my mom and I were rehashing the party when my Pop-Pop’s early exit came up. My mom looked at me and uttered the dreaded words, “Laura, your grandfather has lung cancer.” I found myself gasping for air. It felt as though I had been socked in the stomach. I starred at her in disbelief as she explained how my parents had hid his illness from me since April (it was June at the time), as they didn’t want to ruin what should have been a happy time for me. As I tried to absorb what my mom was telling me, I remembered the resentment and selfishness I had portrayed when my parents told me my grandparents would be unable to attend my graduation. I have never felt more ashamed in my life. 

I went off to college as my grandfather entered the intense phases of chemo to fight his illness. At Christmas he looked gaunt, but he put on a brave face for all of us. My Pop-Pop was a huge Penn State fan, so he always gave me a hard time (all in good fun) for going to Virginia Tech. I gave him a Virginia Tech Grandpop sweatshirt for Christmas and as he opened it he looked up with a twinkle in his eye and said, “This is really great! I’ll have to find some duct tape to put over Virginia Tech and write Penn State!”

I never had the opportunity to see him wear that sweatshirt, but my dad told me he always wore it to chemo and would brag about me to any and everyone who would listen. Once he passed, my uncle and aunt gave it to me to hold on to. I don't think I will ever receive a more meaningful gift.

When I came home from my freshman year for the summer, my dad told me my grandfather was not doing well. He took me to visit him and I was blindsided as I walked in to my grandparents’ home and saw my bald grandmother. During my Pop-Pop’s fight with cancer, my Mom-Mom found out she had breast cancer. As if seeing my grandmother without hair wasn’t hard enough, the sight of my frail grandfather sent me over the edge. He once joked he shopped in the “Chubby” section, and yet he was thinner than I was when I saw him. I had to excuse myself to pull myself together.

Once I returned to the room to visit with my Pop-Pop, he immediately started singing “New York, New York” to lighten up the mood of the room. Even in one of his weakest moments, he tried to put a smile on my face. This was a true testament to my grandfather’s character. 

A few days later, on May 18, 2006, my grandfather lost his battle with lung cancer surrounded by those he loved.

His viewing and funeral were extremely difficult for all of us, however my grandfather still managed to get my family to laugh a few times, even from heaven. The power went out at his viewing, and we all had to chuckle amidst our tears. Pop-Pop had gotten his last practical joke in. In addition, my dad gave the eulogy and had the church laughing over some of my grandfather’s infamous lines.

I’ll never forget how packed the church was and how long the procession of cars stretched on the way to the gravesite. My dad said my grandfather never would had believed all of those people came to say goodbye to him. Instead, he would say they were there to support his wife, kids, and grandkids. I don’t think he understood the lasting impression he made on people. 

My family lost an integral part of our family five years ago today. I miss him with every fiber of my being.  This past weekend my dad’s family got together to celebrate both my cousin’s graduation from high school and my brother’s graduation from college. Surrounded by the love, laughter, and pure joy, it was quite clear that my Pop-Pop was present, especially when the sun came out for our family wiffle ball game. He always loved watching his 13 grandkids and 6 kids goofing off and enjoying one another’s company. I have no doubt in my mind that he was smiling down on us from heaven, as we carried on his legacy. 

Good Guys Finish First

Never take no for an answer.

My brother and I have always been very different from one another. I am the typical oldest child: outgoing, talkative, and very social. My brother on the other hand is the typical middle child: quiet, shy, and keeps to himself. Growing up, I loved playing sports and have always been the dramatic one. Danny (yes, he'll always be Danny to me) never really liked playing sports, instead opting for Robotics and the like. He also was the levelheaded child and things never really ruffled his feathers.

We could always find Danny in front of a television clicking away on his video game controller. From a very young age, video games fascinated my brother and he was often lost in his little video world. At 8-years-old, he proclaimed that when he grew-up he would design video games.

Danny always received the short end of the stick. My sister and I always made sports teams, whereas he always seemed to get cut. I passed my license on the first try, whereas he failed twice over BS reasons (the instructor ended up getting fired due to this.) You get the idea.

Fast-forward to high school: My brother went to an all boys' jock school. As a self-proclaimed nerd, this wasn't always easy for him. He was in the Robotics Club, which most guys at this school looked at as uncool. My parents and my brother were also often at war over how long he spent playing video games versus socializing and other hobbies.

Senior year arrived and my brother announced that he'd attend Georgia Tech to study Computational Media. We were all so proud of him for going after his biggest dream.

Once at Georgia Tech, I watched him struggle through GT's rigorous curriculum. I was stunned at how intense Georgia Tech was. There were no in-betweens when it came to grades. Meaning, Georgia Tech only had A, B, C, D, and F.

We'd often have late-night calls where my usually unflappable brother freaked out to me about his grades and how hard his classes were. I told him to keep trying and not to give-up. Everything would work-out, I said.

My inspiration

This year marked Danny's senior year at Georgia Tech and with that came the job hunt. I gave him as many tips and pointers as I could to try and ease what was a miserable process for myself.

He called me the day he found out he had landed an interview with Zynga, a social gaming company. I can honestly say I have never heard him so excited before. He was supposed to go to Florida for his Spring Break trip, but opted to fly out to San Francisco for his interview instead. In his words, "I'd rather have my interview now, so I don't miss school and have to stress out about school work." I was struck by his maturity and wondered if I would have done the same thing in that situation.

The night after his interview, I called him to see how it went. He was exhausted, as his interview had gone from 10 am until 3 pm and he had spoken to six different people. He told me he thought he did very well, yet he still sounded defeated. I asked him what was wrong. "Nothing ever goes in my favor. I gave the interview everything I had. I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get it."

The following day I had a missed call from him. Danny doesn't call me for stupid reasons, so I knew it was something big. I called back and he told me his plane had run out of gas and got struck by lightning. His plane had to make an emergency landing in Phoenix.

Obviously I was concerned for my brother's well being, but I couldn't help but think "Oh, that's why you called." Just as I was thinking this, Danny's voice cut in, "Annnd Zynga just called and offered me the job!" I'm pretty sure the scream I let out after this statement may have punctured my brother's eardrums. I immediately burst into tears (remember when I said I was the dramatic child at the beginning of this post?) and congratulated him over and over again. I could hear the pure joy in my brother's voice.

I started asking him a million and one questions about the position. He told me he most likely would have to work fourteen-hour days to begin with. "I don't mind working that much because I'm going to be waking up and doing what I love every day," he said. I was awed by the power of this statement.

8-year-old Danny's proclamation was no longer just a proclamation. The 21-year-old Danny had made the proclamation a reality.  My brother is a true testament to the fact that good guys do finish first. Also, that dreams do come true when you don't give up and never take no for an answer.

Danny, you amaze me and I cannot wait to see the mark you make on the gaming world. Zynga is lucky to have such a hard worker on their team. Congratulations on this amazing feat! You are my inspiration.