The Best Person I Have Ever Known | Teen Ink

The Best Person I Have Ever Known

January 21, 2013
By HaileyShoptaugh GOLD, Newport, North Carolina
HaileyShoptaugh GOLD, Newport, North Carolina
14 articles 0 photos 0 comments

One day, a kind, old man with kind, old eyes asked me one of the most important questions I have ever been asked. He simply inquired, “Who is the best person you have ever known?”. I thought this to be a very broad question, what did he mean by “best”. I thought for a moment, running through all of the people I had ever met, until finally I knew exactly who was the best. I proceeded to tell this kind, old man with kind, old eyes the tale of my great-grandfather. By far the best person I have known and ever hoped to know. I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes how my great-grandfather was a man of experience. How he made his crazy transition from WWII navigator to neighborhood milk man. I told this man about all the Christmas and birthday presents pranks my great-grandfather would play on us and how there was never a dull moment with him. I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes about my great-grandfather’s grand fishing days. I explained how my great-grandfather was not only the master fisherman, but the master seafood chef. I told this old man about my great-grandfather’s incredible bread, the kind I could eat for days. I told him that my great-grandfather never liked a Key Lime Pie unless it was truly from the Keys. I told him how my great-grandfather would always have a glass of wine and a glass of water with dinner, every night. I tried to explain my great-grandfather’s undying love for a good Manhattan. I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes of my great-grandfather’s dear old friend Tom and how they would go out to dinner every Wednesday and Thursday night. Preferably at some locally owned restaurant in Morehead City or Beaufort. I told him about how brave my great-grandfather was by serving his country in the air during World War II. How my great-grandfather was a navigator on the B-17 bomber “Stinker”. I told him how my great-grandfather was always reading something by James Patterson or Tom Clancy. I tried, and failed, to put into words how much I love going to the Christmas Eve service at my great-grandfather’s church. I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes that I regret that I have never told him that I look forward to those services and those special moments with him more than I do the presents and all on Christmas morning. And most of all, I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes of the love my great-grandfather gives. To all of us. I told this man of how my great-grandfather and great-grandmother met. I told this man how I hope that my great-grandfather remembers driving me to soccer camp one summer’s day, the day he told me the story of him and my great-grandmother. I remember being touched by that story and looking over and seeing a tear on my great-grandfather’s cheek. I told this man of how my great-grandfather was a father of four and how I can remember each of his children telling me that they could not wish for a better Dad. My great-grandfather was a grandfather of many, and all of his grandchildren have felt the warmth of his love at all times. The love I myself have received and seen seems impossible to give. I told this man of how my great-grandfather reacted when he found out that my brother would be named after him. I remember with great clarity how my great-grandfather looked when he first saw my brother, a look of such love and adoration that I cannot help but hope that he had that same look on his face when he first saw me. I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes how much my great-grandfather’s family loves him in return. His children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren love him more than I can describe with mere words. I told this man how I hope with all of my heart that once, at least once, my great-grandfather could tell just how much I love him, how much I appreciated the talks we had, the laughs we shared. I told this man about my great-grandfather, about Robert Odell. I told this kind, old man with kind, old eyes how the story of himself. Because this is the story of that kind, old man with kind, old eyes as seen by me, a bright, young girl with bright, young eyes, his great-granddaughter.


The author's comments:
As my great-grandfather has been battling his way through his fifth cancer, he has also contracted pneumonia. His life is fading quickly, so I just wanted to tell him how much we all love him.

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