Memories and Fancy Things.

I think about a lot of things, especially now that my brain is no longer on school mode. Most of all, I think of my past. I think about my past with relationships, and my past family memories. Most of all, I think about my grandfather.
In my life, I have met thousands of different people, but one person that will always stick to me like glue is my grandfather. He, a product of two italian immigrants, the youngest of four siblings, is an inspiration of me. He's the first example of decent men, the person that is a father figure to me. He was a great man, that Sonny. Some knew him as a friend, some knew him as family, and some knew him as a patient. He was a man with great humor, some people can tell you the stories of what he used to do, like dressing up like a woman.
Many people say that they can barely remember their grandparents, because they either moved to Florida, or deceased before they were born, but I remember my grandfather as being like a father to me. When I had my eye surgery, he was the one that took me. When I had doctor's appointments, he usually was the driver, with my grandmother in the front seat telling him what to do. When I was sick, he sat next to me watching endless kid shows, more than any kind of grown man could ever stand. His favorite was Mr. Rogers, mainly because of the trains. Personally, he kind of reminded me of him.
When I think of my grandfather, I won't think of the man that he currently is, a vegetable at a hospital, just waiting for his number to die. I think of someone who has the greatest sense of humor on the planet, the man who always did the right thing, the man that always spent summer afternoons polishing his vintage Cadilac. He was the original guido. I won't think of the man who sleeps all day, the man who was always violant whenever he had to take his pills, or was up at three in the morning singing.
Some say dementia is something that kills you years before you die. And I believe it's true. The disease robs you of your soul. My grandfather, a sufferer of the disease, I believe is dead years ago, because once you lose your soul and your mind, you have nothing.