The biggest influence of my life

This post might be a little more serious than others, but, oh, well, you'll get over it.
Yesterday would've been my grandfather's birthday. He died three years ago after suffering from years of heart trouble and then having a stroke the previous year before he died.
I really miss him. I called my grandmother because I knew she would be thinking about him more than usual, and I was struck by how much I still miss him after talking about him with her, even three years later.
He was such an amazing man. If there was ever anything that I didn't know (shocking though that may be), I knew that he was the person to ask. He never went to college, but he was easily the smartest person I've ever known.
He got me interested in politics when I was about seven years old. I remember him railing against the television when he decided that Reagan was no longer the way to go, and he would explain the nuances of politics and the news to me like an adult, not like I was seven years old. Half the time, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I'm almost positive that I was the only seven-year-old who knew about the evils of voodoo economics.
He told me stories about when he was in the Navy during World War II. He didn't talk a lot about that time of his life until about 10 years before he died, but his face would change as he talked about all of the exotic locales he had been to while in the war. He had the usual colorful stories involving bar incidents and some of his Navy cohorts, and I'm sure that he left out quite a few salty tales that I wish I could hear.
When he would baby-sit me, we would take walks around town, "little adventures," and invariably end up at our church. In the empty sanctuary, we would have miniature sermons, each choosing our favorite hymns and reading our favorite Bible verses.
Before he died, he had gotten to the point that he didn't read as much anymore and felt like doing little more than lying down. I think a part of me knew that he had made peace with the fact that it was his time, and while I was sad, and continue to be sad, I will always be glad that he is no longer in pain.
I delivered a eulogy at his funeral, and it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. I talked about a lot of the things that I've mentioned here, and I chose to remember how amazing his life was and how he was a constant source of light in our family.
I wish he had been alive to see me go to work for the John Kerry campaign. Not just because he would've been proud, and he would've, but because I would've called him with every little detail about what I was doing, and he would've relished each morsel.
Before I moved to Philly, when I was cleaning out my apartment, I found a box of keepsakes that were his, and I had a conversation with one of his pictures, so to speak. I asked him if I was doing the right thing, and I just felt that he approved and would've wanted me to pursue my dreams.
I know, that no matter what, I will always want to seek his approval for those kinds of decisions in my life, and I know that he is always watching out for me.
And that makes me feel that things are right in the world. Everyone should be so lucky to have that kind of guardian angel.