Back to Apache home page

By Marc A. Znaniecki

I have never been a man of great rhetoric or expression in vocal tones. When it comes to expressing my feelings, quite often the thoughts are there, alas, my lips no words will make.

Writing has always been my forte. A few days ago, I began writing a letter to someone very dear to me. Thinking about it, I decided to turn it into an article.

A few years ago, I attended a good friend’s wedding. A woman of splendorous beauty, of distinguishing humor and of compassionate loyalty in friendship was a bridesmaid. She and I had been very good friends. The night was drawing down and I was ready to leave. She promised that she would dance with me one more time should I stay a bit longer. I did not stay and she died in a car crash three weeks later.

Last year, my sister called after 1 a.m. on a Friday night. I still remember the strain and fear emoting from her voice. Something had happened to her husband, but she didn’t know exactly all the details. I rushed to her place, only to find that a man I am proud to say was/is a part of my family had perished in a car accident.

So abrupt. So unexpected.

I tried to convince myself it was all a bad dream. People of 20 and 23 years old aren’t supposed to spring from this mortal coil so early. There are still times I wish I might wake up, and they would pass me on the street and everything would be as it was before.

But life is ever changing. People are dying every day as new life begins.

When I was told my grandpa has cancer, again I tried to conceal myself in a shell of self-denial. But the gravity of his condition is something that I cannot simply ignore. At 84 years old, time is fleeting.

When I was a young boy, there would be only one word I could use to describe my grandpa, "Hero." To me, he stood 7 feet tall and had enough strength to defeat an army. He is the one person throughout all my life that I wish I could be more like….No…He has been someone that I’ve always wanted to be. Up until last year he always remained active, even playing with his great-grandchildren much like he did when I was that young. I’ve lately been oft to reminisce in such memories of my own.

He epitomizes all that I have ever associated with a grandpa. He is the only grandpa I’ve ever really known. My other grandfather died when I was 6 years old and I have no real recollection of him other than the images embedded in my mind from pictures that still remain. Unlike my grandpa, I cannot remember his voice, his smile, his humor or his influence in my life.

My grandpa has always been a force of comfort throughout times of need, pain, sorrow, and misfortune. To all his grandchildren, he has been a best friend. He has been the reassurance of faith, when I had none. He also shared some of the best times life has had to offer me thus far. From my years as a rotten little demon child to my graduation from High School to where I am presently at in life, he has always been either in the forefront or backdrop of virtually every important aspect of my life. I find it impossible to imagine life without him.

He’s always been a very likeable guy. The only enemies I know he ever had in his life were the Axis Powers of WWII and the Democrats, though he never armed himself for combat against the Democrats. Knowing that he served during a time of war and that he has never spoken of anything he did during that time, I feel nothing more than respect and honor for him. Perhaps I am still just a little boy who needs not know about the atrocities of war and bloodshed? I am one of his youngest grandchildren after all.

I live my life with many regrets. Not dancing with Amanda one more time when I had the chance, not telling Ken that he was as important to my family as is my sister. Not taking the time to tell my grandpa just who he is and how it is that he has helped shape my life and influence me to try and be as great a man as he is. These are all regrets that I don’t want to live with for the rest of my days.

"Time waits for nobody."

Yet, I will wait some more time until I can again dance with Amanda or hold a conversation with Ken to mend the regrets I do feel. The time I have left now needs to be used more wisely than I did in the past.

So rather than let another opportunity to express myself and languish in regret for the rest of my mere mortal life, I wrote this letter to share with him my view of the man that I’ve always thought of to be my "Hero." He is someone that I truly want to be more like.

Perhaps this is now one less regret to live with.