I love you Grandpa

Five years ago my grandfather, Wesley King died of cancer.

My Grandpa was a silly grandpa. He would sing songs to us in Polish. "Home, home on the range-ski. Where the deer-ski, and the antelope-ski play-ski"...
He loved to tell us stories about "Little Red Riding Hood-ski"...I think he had a polish fixation or something.
He would mix all of the fairy tales together, coming up with a whale of a tale that ended up having no point.
He would always cringe when my little sister would scream, and promptly shut his hearing aid off. He'd ask 'What?' 2-3 times before he remembered that he'd turned it off.
I always hated it that he gave mouth kisses. I thought they were so gross.
When he'd sit down, his pants would hike up to his shins, and I thought he had the ugliest legs I'd ever seen. His socks didn't help either, as they were always a dark, mustard yellow, or ugly olive green.
For a picture, he once wore a little baby cap, and held out an orange little 'money cup' to look like a little monkey begging for money. I love that picture. It shows his love of having fun, even if it was just silly, and only to make us kids laugh.
He let me work for him in his printing supply store whenever we'd go for a visit. Then for pay, he gave me a beautiful art set. I loved the smell of his store, and to this day printing places take me back to his little crowded store in North Royalton, Ohio.
My grandpa loved going to his church, and loved the people there. He was able to help counsel young boys who were seeking guidance, which was something he really liked doing when he was younger.
I still remember him lying in the hospice bed in his living room, hooked up to the oxygen tank, asking me to play some more hymns on the piano for him. And he always enjoyed having people sing the old hymns that he loved so much.
Seeing the picture on my sister's live journal site, of him, hooked up to his oxygen and still holding my little brother Mark, sent the tears streaming down my face.

I'll never forget my grandpa...I loved him so much. I miss his silly songs, his silly sense of humor, and even his kisses. But one day I'll see him again, and he won't be hooked to oxygen anymore. He's better already, up in Heaven, and, like the song they sang at his funeral, I'll see him again.

I'll see you again, I'll see you again.
I'll see you in Glory someday.
For now it's goodbye, don't sorrow or cry.
I'll see you in Glory someday.