I remember all the times I watched him work. All the times I helped him with whatever he needed. I remember the times I had to “ask Grandpa“, so I’d go out to the shop where I would find him covered in sawdust and oil. I remember the times he’d come in from work, covered in sweat and mud, and still ask me how work was going. It surprises me that he was 88 years old. You couldn’t tell it from the speed he worked at. I always thought he was 20 years younger since he acted like he was in his late 60s. All in all, the memories I have of Grandpa are positive, and I think that’s the best they can be. I miss you, but you’re still in my heart.