I feel bad not writing a piece about my step-mother's father, Dan, who died 3 weeks ago. Peat did a wonderful job on his blog, and it was just too hard for me to do it before now. But I just want to say what a sincerely great guy my "Gampa" was.

It's my step-brother's fault I call him Gampa. That's what he called him when he was a kid. I guess he couldn't say his Rs back then, I don't know, I didn't know him until we were 7. But he called his grandparents Gamma and Gampa back then, so I did, too. Still do. In fact, the only living grand-relatives I have now are Gamma and my ex-step-father's mother. (My mom is in the process of getting a divorce, but we are both still very fond of her ex's mother who lives in Florida.)

I lost my own grandfather, my mother's father, when I was 14. He died of lung cancer which took a year to finally do him in. He and I were very close, and he was one of my favorite play-mates when I was a kid. He was a gentle, kind, silly and slightly dirty old man, and I still miss him terribly. (I never knew my father's father, who died before I was born.) So when I lost Gampa, it was like a double-blow for me, bringing back all the pain of when I lost my own grandfather 16 years ago. But that was only a part of the pain.

What really got me was the fact that Gampa had had so many interests that I never got a chance to discuss with him. Of course, we talked when we got together, but we never really had a chance to have in-depth conversations. There were always holidays and other family members to contend with. Gampa was a man of wide and varied hobbies, including theatre, music, and gardening. He served in each theatre of WWII, while beginning a family. He raised a son and daughter, and watched his grandchildren grow. And he and his wife welcomed me and my father into their family early on, adding fun things like Nunley's carousel on Long Island and Easter egg hunts to my life. We spent Christmas there every year, opening presents and eating candy under their tree. We had barbecues and ruined their lawn with our Slip'n'Slide during the summers. Typical stuff, maybe, but that didn't make them less enjoyable. I had great fun at Gamma and Gampa's house and have very fond memories. And I'll never forget that little gleam in Gampa's eye that made you think he was up to something and wanted to let you in on the joke. But he and I never sat down and just talked, and I feel I've missed out on what could have been yet one more great experience with him.

Before I lost my maternal grandfather, I went down to Florida to say goodbye. It was hard, but I'm glad we got to see each other before the end and tell each other "I love you." I never got a chance to do that with Gampa, because he died so suddenly. The last time I saw him was at Yom Kippur, and while he didn't look as pert as he once did, I never thought he would die two weeks later. I told him I'd see him at Thanksgiving, the next big holiday, and kissed his cheek when we left.

I'm glad that he didn't have a long, horrible, lingering illness like my grandmother who died of Alzheimer's. I'm glad that it was swift, for his sake. And, as I said, he wasn't in the best of health, and it wasn't completely unexpected. But it was still a shock to everyone, and I'm sad that I didn't get a chance to tell him a proper goodbye.

So here's my farewell to my Gampa, a mischievous guy with a wonderful laugh, a talented tomato-grower, and a real mensch. He may not have been blood, but he was a wonderful grandfather to me.