My Shrine to My Grandpa by Erica Schiller

   I know I've talked about my grandpa a few times in class, but I just want to say a few words about him before I start talking about my shrine itself.  My Grandpa Dom was a wonderful man, a member of the Navy and a Vietman veteran who was discharged with honors.  He and my grandma fit together like two sides of the same coin, and he was a warm, loving man who was devoted to his family.  As a builder who owned his own construction business, he literally built the roof over my head--my family's current home was built by him and his company.
   As the oldest of six grandkids, I remember him most out of all of them.  Even my brother, the next oldest, doesn't have nearly as distinct memories as I do.  So, I feel a unique obligation to remember him in a way the rest of my generation of the family can't.  His is the only major loss I've ever really experienced. 
   I decided to build a pocket shrine because I wanted to have something I could carry with me.  I went down to a small store in town and bought a hollow locket with crosses on all sides.  Grandpa was a devout Christian; his faith was important, and I wanted the shrine to outwardly reflect that. 
   Inside, I placed a small figurine of an angel representing love.  What I remember most distinctly about my grandpa is his warm, loving nature; he loved to give hugs and was never spare with his affection.  I always looked forward to seeing him because he always had a piggy back ride or a big bear hug for me, even when I got older and it was tougher for him to swing me around like he used to.  I also placed a quote from George Eliot inside, "Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them."  He is not yet gone from my family's hearts, especially not my grandma's.  She often says she knows he is watching over us.
   The last two objects I placed inside relate directly to specific memories I have of him.  I used to ride around with him on his tractor, helping him mow the lawn and tow vegetables down to the farmer's market.  I put grass clippings inside for this reason.  The most distinct memory I have of my grandpa is when he taught me how to skip stones one summer up at the cottage.  When I mentioned I'd always wanted to learn, but that no one had time to teach me (my dad was teaching full time and my mom was in school for her PhD), he took my hand and walked me down the road to the shore of the lake, and we skipped stones until it was time for dinner. 
   Finally, I painted the inside of the cover white, and wrote "D + J" in it.  My grandpa, Dominick, and my grandma, Jan, were always so close.  She was a very important part of his life, and I wanted this shrine to show that in at least some small way. 
   Making this shrine was very emotional for me, very solemn, but I did enjoy it.