Grandpa's monkey

If you read the previous post, you know what the theme is for this month, as I try to post something everyday.

When my grandfather died, gosh I guess it has almost been two years now, my grandmother went through a lot of their stuff since she had decided to move to a smaller place. All of us relatives helped out and one day, in their garage, I discovered this monkey. He is made out of wood and his arms and legs move. It was very strange to find him among my grandfather's work area. My grandpa was sweet and called me and my mom "Tweety" but he also was a rather quiet and serious man. I imagine that he hangs out with Johnny Cash in heaven, since they both were very devoted to God but had had their own personal demons to deal with in life. That day that we helped clean out the garage, I grabbed this monkey along with a few other things in order I think to grab onto some piece of my grandfather. Perhaps, the pieces I didn't know that well. The monkey has stayed on my bookshelf keeping my childrens' books company. It seemed like a whimsical and logical choice but while I was cleaning the other day, I realized that this monkey doesn't really symbolize my grandfather to me. Who knows where Grandpa even got it? Maybe it was in his garage since he wanted to get rid of it too? The memories I have of my grandfather are strong and if I ever miss him too terribly, I do have his boots. His boots that I have always loved and have very early memories as a child of seeing him wear those boots. Those boots I will never give away. But monkey, good bye.