Living with Parkinson’s isn’t easy. It’s painful to watch the people you love struggle with simple everyday tasks like walking, talking, eating solid foods, and simple things like getting up from a chair. My Grandpa had Parkinson’s, and it was hard knowing how he acted before he had Parkinson’s. He had it when I was young, but it hadn’t taken over his life. He still went for walks in the woods with me, carved me and my brother amazing walking sticks, let us drive the golf cart with him, and his humor was the biggest thing that kept us going through the last few months of his life. When my Mom, Grandma, and Aunt were around his bed, singing hymns from our church to help him. He asked them to stop and my aunt said “What’s wrong, don’t you like our singing?” He replied and said “Give me liberty or give me death.” We all laughed and he got that mischievous smile on his face that we all loved so much. That disease almost ruled his life. I think my biggest hero is my Grandpa, because he never stopped wanting to laugh. His humor was his biggest quality.

When I was younger and Parkinson’s hadn’t taken over my grandpa’s life, he loved to take me and my brother out into the forest behind his house. The clearest memory I have of him years ago, was when he took me out with the golf cart. He let me steer while he worked the gas. Of course, I had no idea how to work the thing, so I took a sharp right, and there was a tree there, as forests tend to have. My Grandpa grimaced, and picked me up and set me beside him while he took the wheel. After a few years, I began to see how much my Grandpa’s body was deteriorating. He wasn’t taking us kids out anymore. He could fall asleep at will. He had an automated recliner that helped him get up. I remember my Grandma helping him with his food, taking trays out to him loaded with applesauce, eggs, fried potatoes, and bacon. Of course, there was also his signature sauce. Ketchup. He loved the stuff.

I think Ketchup was my grandpa’s biggest weakness. He had ketchup on almost everything, but I didn’t learn until later, this was part of the disease that turned him into a hunched over, slow shuffling man. He rarely left the house. He had to have things that he could swallow without difficulty. One day after thanksgiving, My Grandpa asked for leftovers for breakfast. He had turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, pumpkin pie, and ice cream. It was funny when my grandma got out the ice ream and pie because who would have those things for breakfast? My grandpa of course! Grandpa was great, but sometimes I felt weird around him because he couldn’t do things my other grandparents could. He couldn’t take us out for a walk or drive us to the nearest Starbucks like my other grandparents could. He couldn’t take care of us when we were sick like my other grandparents occasionally did. He had to stop doing some of the things he loved because of his disease. He was also a genius.

My Grandpa was an electronic engineer. He designed sonar things. He had a brilliant mind and even though I think I might have seen him as a Grandpa who couldn’t do much. I saw his disease as debilitating. He always kept the strong face on, even when his face froze in a mask. He never once complained, and was always gracious. He never blamed anybody for his disease, and never took it out on any of us. He was a positive and kept our spirits up. I think if I were to choose a hero from my life, it would be him. I love my other Grandparents and my parents too, but they didn’t have to suffer the way Grandpa did. True they had to watch him suffer, but they never had to be the one suffering.

The last few days of my Grandpa’s life were the hardest. I’d never seen him so weak and frail. It was obvious he was going to die any minute. Every time I left the room, I always had to say “I love you” to him because I was scared he would die not knowing how much I loved him. He never talked much in the last few days. His speech was even more garbled, and he could barely move. On Saturday morning, Feb. 18, at 7:00 Am, my Grandpa died. When my dad was shaking me awake, I was so sleepy at first I barely understood his words. Then it hit me like a train, bus, and car. I cried for a long time after that. Eventually, my dad had to go, and my friend’s mom took his place, then my friend took her place. The rest of that weekend was tough. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I acted like I was fine, even when I obviously wasn’t. That weekend passed in a blur. I thought the world had ended because I no longer had every member of my family in my family. I still have one picture of me and him, and it sits on my bedside table, always reminding me of the strong Grandpa I had known.

I still visit his grave. My Grandpa remains the strongest, kindest, most gracious and compassionate person I had ever known. If you want a true hero, here’s one from my everyday life. My Grandpa, Norman Tinklepaugh, is one of the greatest men you will meet. In the end, we could all tell he was weak and that he was ready to die. I remember looking at his face in the casket, thinking he was going to pop up and go boo at the last minute. But of course, he was dead, so no boo came, no last mischievous smile that we all loved. Just the blank mask he sometimes wore because of his disease. I want to remember my Grandpa not as a slow, old, slouchy man. I want to remember him as a strong, cheerful, man who would stop at nothing to make sure we were all happy. This is my Grandpa, a man who lived with Parkinson’s.