I had one. Well, technically I had two of course, but one died before I was born. Whats sad is that of the two, the one who died is the one I knew better.

The one who was still alive during my lifetime never really seemed to be completely there. My memories of him seem to consist of him sitting in a chair whenever my family came to visit him and my grandma. He died when I was in second grade, and I don't really feel as if I ever knew him. I wish I did.

My other grandfather, the one that died years before I was born, was cool. I feel as if I know him because of the vast amount of stories about him. He fought in World War II, in Alaska during the brief invasion of the Aleutian Islands. The best thing about him is what he did when my parents got married. My parents wanted to get married in my mother's hometown, but it had no town hall for the reception. So my grandfather built one. It is still the town's hall today. What a way for a father to show love for his daughter.

I never really knew either of my grandfathers, or any of my grandparents for that matter. I hope my children, if I am ever a father, know theirs better than I knew mine.