Dear Grandpa,

I don't talk to you as much as I should, but I think about you an awful lot. I wish you were here to meet your newest great grandson. To play the same games with him that you had with me. To tell him stories, and tickle him with your beard. Maybe he'd be another Pipip for you, he is likely to be as stubborn as I am after all. And he'd grow up knowing that the smell of love is sometimes a mix of peppermint, sawdust and diesel.

We had the hardest time naming him. There were names I was attached to since I was young, that my husband absolutely hated. And most of the names he came up with, I didn't feel much better about. Those we did agree on weren't terrible, but they were just lacking something. And then one moment it just hit me, what his name had to be, even if Jonathan was reluctant.

He is Milo.

It's a good name, I think you'd agree. I can't picture him with any other.

He may not get to meet the man he was named after, but he will know you. I'll be sure of that, and his grandparents will be sure of it, his Aunties and Uncles. We all carry different pieces of you.

And if I am terribly lucky he will be another piece and inherit your intelligence, your kindness, your silly humor, and your gentle caring nature.

Thank you for everything you taught me and everything you are going to teach my son.

I love each of my Milo's.