There is no proper way to start something like this.  There is no clever way to open a letter like this one I have asked myself to write.  There isn't a book that I can reference to kick-start this text and there isn't any class I can take to help make it easier.  But what I can tell you is that if I was asked to write something like this one, two, five years ago.. I would pick up the telephone and call Grandma Parker.  She always knew what to do.  If you did call to talk to her you would probably be interuptting her from some sort of project she had herself deeply involved with, but she would never let you know that.  Her world came to a halt when someone reached out for her, and all her attention was on you. I recently had a photograph passed on to me of my Grandmother and I when I was a very young boy.  In the photograph I'm standing wide-eyed and tall.  I've got both arms extended, with a smile ear-to-ear.  I must have been the happiest little boy on earth in this photograph, I'm standing on my own two feet.  But what I probably didn't know at the time, is that my Grandmother is holding both of my hands.  I am probably too young to stand on my own two feet, but with my Grandmother's help, I was able to do so.  That picture really takes me back, but looking at it now it is a symbolic representation of the relationship that my Grandmother and I shared since that photograph was taken. All thoughtout my life my Grandmother was standing right behind me making sure that everything in my life was as good as it could have been.  She went out of her way to make sure that my Sister and I had the best lives growing up, taking us to places we had never seen before in our lives, magical places that we had only dreamed of or heard stories about.  We had seen the Rocky Mountains, and Grand Canyon together.  We drove a car though a tree in California.  We slept in the woods were you had to lock you food in metal bins to keep the bears away.  I put my feet in the ocean for the first time in my life with my Grandmother holding my hand.  My Grandmother photographed me while I lay on the concrete with each of my limbs in a different state. When I was young, and I played in little league baseball, Grandma attended almost every game.  Didn't matter where the game was, or what time the game started, you knew by the time "Play ball!" was called that Grandma and Larry would be sitting on lawnchairs on whatever side of the field our team was on.  She was never too shy to clap and cheer whenever I was fortunate enough to make magic happen on the field.  She even took to me to see Nolan Ryan the last time he played in Milwaukee against the Milwaukee Brewers before retirement.  There seemed to be no limit as to how far Grandma would go to make me and my Sister feel like we were the most important people on earth. When I got older and started toying with the idea of going to college, Grandma Parker did everything she could to see that it went as smoothly as possible.  When I first started, I didn't even have my own automobile yet, and she would take to too and from the Southside of Milwaukee from Sussex three days as week for night classes, and also saw to it that I got to and from work no matter what the hours.  She tirelessly put fourth effort during the hardest times of my schooling, and that motivation helped keep me going.  When it got to the ladder part of college and the courses were really starting to get tough, I really struggled and wanted to give up.  I was too unstable to stand on my own two feet, but with my Grandmother's help, I was able to do so. My idea of marriage was inspired by that of both my Grandparents.  The Aumann's taught me that two people can indeed journey though life, hand-in-hand as one entity, and do so gracefully.  Grandma & Grandpa (Larry) taught me that two people can indeed journey though life, and inspire each other with the energies that each of them create.  And too, do so gracefully.  The relationship they shared was unique, but indeed a loving and caring one.  Together they were bursting at the seams with the things they did for other people.  As I got older, I realised that these relationships that I saw these two beautiful couples share my entire life is the exact kind of bond that I too hoped to one day share with another. After Krystal and I had been dating for a few years, I recall once having a telephone converstaion with my Grandmother that I would not soon forget.  At the time I was toying with the idea of proposing to Krystal.  I was telling Grandma how it hurt inside to be apart from her during the week.  How all week I thought about when the next time I would see Krystal again.  When I told her that it almost felt like electricity, the feeling that would pound through me when I did get to see her again.  How it was almost too much of an overwhelming feeling of joy to see her, like I could almost jump out of my own skin.  Grandma started to cry.  She told me that she used to feel the exact same way when she was working at the grocery store when Bill (my Grandfather) would come in as a customer before they were married.  It wasn't too long after that conversation that I was not longer toying with the idea of propsing to Krystal, but planning it. After I got married, I feel that the relationship that I had with my Grandmother did nothing but grow stronger.  Despite the fact that I saw her a lot less than I did when I lived in Sussex, there were times were we were almost permanatnly connected to each other via telephone.  Especially at first, when Grandma would have to sit there with me on the telephone and coach me through some recipe I had never cooked before in my life.  I started to look forward to the mail arriving, as she would send me index cards of hand-written recipes in her elegant cursive that never changed and always looked the same.  I hold her cooking close to my heart, as it was extension to the person that she was.  There was love and care put into each and everything little thing that my Grandmother did and cooking was no exception.  She made me proud of my heritage, because she held hers close to her roots as well. We had been getting together each year since I have been married to plant flowers at our place in West Allis.  Grandma and I would get together early one morning, enjoy some coffee and conversation before shuffling off to the stores to find flowers, herbs and vegetables to plant.  We would work tirelessley outide until it was dark.  Grandma would have this amazing power to keep your motivation fresh and the extra push to keep going.  Then we would have dinner.  I would insist on her just sitting back while I prepared dinner but she always insisted on helping and I could not deny the privilage of cooking with her side-by-side.  After dinner when she would head home, I would walk her to her car and giver her and hug and a kiss goodbye and thank her for all the work her did and for all the help.  It was times like this when Grandma's character would shine through the brighest.  She would say things like how it was me that did all the work and she was just here helping when inside I knew that it might have been me walking around the yard all day, but it wasn't without my Grandmother here holding both my hands so I could stand on my own two feet. Grandma always told me to keep going, try harder.  Keep looking for the light at the end of the tunnel.  Now I think I know what she means.  Its people like her who are the light at the end of the tunnel.  Showing all of us a small glimmer of light as to which direction we should be travelling.