A poorly written tribute

My grandfather passed away in May of 2011. I never really talked a lot about it because it affected me, and continues to affect me, more than I care to admit to my friends. My grandpa Zane was always my #1 fan, and always the man who convinced me I could do anything I wanted without saying a word. I played ASA softball from age ~9-14. The competition level, my skill, the games: that’s not what stuck in my mind from those 5 years. I actually remember very few specific plays from that time. 

What I do remember? My grandpa. At every. single. game. Sitting in that spot between the dugout and the bleachers. It didn’t matter how well or poorly we were doing: he was always there. And he always had one of those cheesy buttons that had my softball photo from our team photo shoot on it. Even when I chose soccer over softball, he would still come to games that were close to Manson. I still remember the first high school soccer game I played in Fort Dodge (about an hour from Manson, where my grandparents lived): my grandpa sitting between the bleachers and the goal I was guarding at the time, wearing the softball button from my U-12 softball team. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, but he was happy to be there supporting me.

I guess these silly stories might not mean as much if you don’t know other things about his life or specific details about my life with him. But, know this: Zane Meier is a fucking bad ass. And if I ever decide to have a baby (and it’s a boy), his name will be Zane. And I can only hope he’ll be half as bad ass as my Grandpa.

Christmas ‘10, which was regrettably the last Christmas I had with him, held my funniest memory: him sneaking more wine even though my Grandma told him he wasn’t allowed. He just seemed like a kid victorious over some simple 3rd grade teacher when he got a refill, which did nothing but make me smile during what would be one of our last Euchre games together.

I went home last Christmas as a last minute thing, and I’m thankful I did. But I’m also so full of regret. Had I known it was the last time I would see him, I would have said this:

Thank you for being so supportive of my sports.

Thank you for being so supportive of everyone you know.

Thank you for being the best Grandpa any girl could ever know.

Thank you for coming to my soccer games even though you wished I still played softball.

Thank you for loving me so much.

I love you so much.

And thank you for teaching me to enjoy bowling even though I’m terrible at it.

I miss you.

Sorry for such a serious tumblr post, y’all. It’s just been a long time coming.