Before I was born, your true Great Grandfather on my Dad's side passed away from a heart attack. My Grandmother remarried a very sweet man named Joe. He is only man I ever remember calling Grandfather. They lived in the Pennsylvania Dutch country, home of the Amish. What I remember about visiting them is meatballs, fireflies and horse drawn carriages.
Summer evenings visiting them were magical. I would lay in the grass of their front lawn, fireflies dancing through my fingers watching the Amish carriages trot by. I would hear the clop, clop, clop a mile away and run out to the grass to wait for them to pass. They always had the most beautiful horses, dark black with sun glinting off their coats.
Your Great Grandfather had a shop behind the house where he would build tiny wooden houses. They had perfect little windows and doors and they were all different, bright colors. He used to give me one every time I would visit. I have one coming soon to place in your nursery so you have a piece of him.
I got the call about his death from my Dad, who told me that he had a picture of you hanging on his wall. I really wish you could have met him, but I am glad he loved you regardless.