Though he was a body like a towering giant, my grandfather was a very neat, well-kept, respected man. Nobody could seem to see him for who he was, they just saw the 6'6", 325-pound frame. His thick, ash colored hair always had to be just right. From the direction of the part to the brand of hairspray which held it in place, everything had to be just so. His shirt was always tucked in, and his belt always matched his shoes. Because of his whale-sized stomach, he had a sixty-inch waist, his legs reminded me of those of a newborn babies, short and stubby. Everything about him amused me-from his love for the holidays to the way he continuously chewed large amounts of tobacco to the countless afternoons sitting in front of the television watching his beloved Cubs.
             Although he was my mom's father, he loved us as if we were his own children. Several times throughout the year, he would organize what he called "family time," which involved all thirteen grandchildren who gathered in one place to socialize. He also had a great love for holidays. For example, we all spent Christmas Eve at our house and every year grandpa could never make it. But every year that grandpa couldn't make it, Santa Claus would always make a special appearance and give us a gift. The pleasure he took in the holidays was immense. Instead of the normal "the woman does the Christmas shopping" attitude, he insisted on going with my mom to make sure she got just the right gifts for everyone. As long as he thought we were having fun, he was happy. I remember his saying, "Okay, all those who love me must give me a hug." He was gentle and kind, but most people could only see his tremendous size.
             He was not the type of man to defend himself when others ridiculed him simply because he knew he was overweight and "looked different." As people strolled by and rudely commented on his size, he simply whispered, "That man is just not happy with himself. T...