Ernest Phillip Dascola and Mary Grace Root were my maternal grandparents. In a family overwhelmed with failed relationships and divorce, they serve as my only example of a love that withstood the test of time. My grandpa Ernie was a barber in Ann Arbor for nearly the entirety of his life. He was one of the happiest people I ever met. Always there with stolen sugar packets from the morning’s trip to the coffee shop and of course a warm and silly smile. He was killed by a brain aneurysm in 2002. Although I spent ten years with him, I have trouble recalling distinctive memories of my time with him. This upsets me, but through stories and the memories of my relatives, I also will always know that he was an amazing father, grandfather, barber, jokester and overall a unique and kind individual. His wife, Mary was unique and memorable in other ways. She was not always bubbly and silly like grandpa was, but she had a truly warm heart. She spent her life as a mother and wife, in true catholic tradition, but I do not remember her ever speaking of any regrets. She passed away in 2008 after a diagnosis of terminal stomach cancer. I distinctly remember sitting in her apartment working on a final art project the day before she passed. I wish I had known then that I would only have her in my life for 24 more hours, because at the time, it seemed as if she would live forever. We shared many loves, including the magnificent Mrs. Paula Dean. As a child, I could always count on grandma to pick me up from school if I was sick, or to cook me the best grilled cheese when I was feeling down. I do not consider myself a devoutly religious person, but I am spiritual and know that their presences resonate daily in my life. I hope they are proud of me, and understand how much I appreciate the love they showered our family with, as well as the love I still hold for them.