I remember how he wore jean overalls
and a loose fittin button up shirt.
He always had a wad of chew in his mouth
my Maw Maw would nag about him
spittin all over the place.
But he was that kinda man.
He took me fishing a lot when
I would visit,
and I can still see the veins in his hands
and how thin his skin felt
pressed against mine.
His hands were calloused from
the years he spent farming tobacco in Kentucky
and he loved to tell me stories about
my Daddy when he was a boy.
He always made me feel
like I hung the moon,
he would buy me Napoleon ice cream
we rode around in his beat up truck,
with her hollaring "Slow Down Shirley"
and he carried gum in the pockets of them
overalls, and rolls of quarters.
I can still see him,
putting worms on my cane pole.
I wish more than anything in this
world,
he could teach my son to fish.
He had more patience than
anyone I have ever met.
I dearly loved that man.
Adding your comment:
and i remember how if you had your hand flat on the table, he would put his hand into a loose fist and smack it down on my hand and then sit and laugh at me. or when him and my grandma would start talking in Hungarian, those were fighting words because they didn't want us to know what they were saying. I also remember going up in the attic so many times and you remember how when you get married you keep the top layer of your wedding cake and eat it on your first anniversary> well i remember going up in their attic and knowing that that top layer of cake up there was over 50 years old 
