I never thought what knowledge a toy can give you. I always just thought “A toy? Can I play with it?” Never realizing that even something like a toy can give me experience, and knowledge on something I wasn’t prepared for or old enough to understand.

I was five years old; the breezes of fall began to slowly switch to the cold bitter winds of winter in November when my elementary school was holding a Christmas sale for the kids. My mom, sister, and I all went to the sale to find the little “somethings” for my grandparents. There was a whole bunch of little knick-knack type things from oven mitts to picture frames. Me being the picky little brat that I was, I couldn’t find anything I liked for any grandparent. Temper tantrum was well on the way when I finally found the perfect gift for my grandpa Joe. It was a miniature wooden rowing boat, about seven inches long, that was stained the color of tan with a red stripe surrounding the top of the boat and the bottom. The boat had two little oars that were once attached to the boat, and little benches inside of the boat, almost making this boat look very realistic. It was named “S.S Grandpa” and I knew he would love it. My grandpa Joe was a very important figure in my life when I was young. He lived in Cleveland, Ohio, and even though it felt like we drove to his house every weekend we saw him at least twice a month. He loved to fish so I knew his gift from the little “destroyer” would put the biggest smile on his face, especially since he was battling cancer.

I couldn’t wait to give that little boat to my grandpa. With his cancer getting worse I knew it would brighten his spirits. To this day, every other grand child is jealous because I always knew I was his favorite. Anything I did he would almost fall out of his chair from grabbing is solidified pasta belly and leaning back in his chair from laughter. It was around late November that we got the call that my cute little grandpa Joe, with the big pasta belly, and coke bottle glasses had passed away. We left for Ohio the next day; packed like a bunch of sardines we fit eight people in a six people car. Six long and painful hours later we finally arrived to house that had a cloud of sorrow and grief that casted over every person in it. Even though it wasn’t Christmas or rather my grandfather wouldn’t even see Christmas, I wanted him to have that boat, so I brought it with me to give to him.

S.S Grandpa floated in a sea of cream colored lace and silk on the top edge of his casket for his funeral. It was a symbol of the man he once was. It was surrounded by the memories of his other grandchildren. Unfortunately, it had to be taken down because he wasn’t being buried, although I wanted him to be with it forever that way part of me was always with him. We took it back to the hotel where we were staying, which was also as tightly packed as sardines with about thirteen loud and screaming Italians sharing the best memories of their uncle, grandfather, ex-husband, father-in-law, and father.

The day after the funeral we all had to leave and the chaos in that room was more insane than people on Black Friday. Who had to get this, who was packing that, “Girls are you ready?” I was about to pull my hair out. We left in such a hurry that my parents forgot to pack S.S. Grandpa. We found this out half way to my grandpa’s house to say our goodbyes. Tears were welling up and falling, I finally had that temper tantrum. I was devastated; the last thing that tied me to my grandpa was going to be the highlight of the dumpster outside the hotel. My parents went back in hopes of finding it. After what felt like a decade, my mother and father, looking as exhausted as a person who just ran a marathon came into my grandpa’s house. My heart was so high in my throat it was one beat from popping out of my mouth. “They didn’t find it.” That’s all I could think. Sorrow started to show on my face until my father, with a light and gentle smile, pulled out a little wooden rowing boat, with two oars still intact, with two red stripes, and S.S. Grandpa written on the front ends from his back. I never smiled so hard. My stranded boat was recovered! I had my little boat back!

From then on, I kept and still do keep S.S. Grandpa in a little keepsake box filled with pictures and other objects that help me remember him and my other grandpa. That boat may have meant to be given to my grandpa Joe, but thirteen years later, I now see what that little toy boat has given me. That boat has given me my first experience with handling a death. That boat was my first time knowing that when I said goodbye to my grandpa, it was going to be the last. That boat has given me a portal to better times. A portal to the laughs, the games played, movies watched, hugs and kisses given, and happiness that I will always have to remember my grandpa Joe by. Occasionally, when I find myself missing him, I go to that keepsake box and grab my portal and I’m back on my grandpa’s lap. That toy boat taught me how to cherish what I have now because it may not always be there later. It’s truly astounding how something like a toy you get when you’re young, can provide lessons of life that will always be remembered.