First and Foremost thanks Brittney Grant for co-writing this piece with me.

Charlie Felton Morgan, just hearing the name brings tears and a lump in my throat. He was and shall always be remembered as the leader, the father and for some even their guardian angel. He was a man of many talents, not to mention his great abundance of wisdom. For me he wasn't Charlie Felton Morgan Sr. He was just grandpa, my giant, my chef, my everything.

His influence has impacted my life in ways I can not even begin to explain. Years ago, I remember talking to my grandfather about not wanting to attend college and becoming a cook. At the time, I believed that was impressive and would make him proud. Unfortunately, my grandfather crinkled his large bushy brows and began to tell me about the importance of school. At the time it was another lifeless lecture. However, now as I sit in England in my final four weeks I think of two specific memories that embody who Charlie was.

I remember the pastel house, with the perfect walkway and manicured grass on both sides, the rocks that made noise as the tires pulled into them to retire. It was Gramps and Grams house. As soon as you walked in their was dated furniture to your left and elongated mirrors on the right. Keep walking and you would pass the bedrooms and find yourself on a cold tile floor with a wooden table on your right and a colorful kitchen on your left. You could tell where grandpa was before you even passed the mirrors, if there was a lingering smell of sausages and corn in the air he was in the kitchen. However, if you heard loud bangs and silent squeaks he was in his big green chair watching country westerns in the den, folding clothes or enjoying a bowl of pecan ice cream.

I would come in get situated pull out my homework. Grandpa was always interested in maths. He would sit with you folding clothes or cutting potatoes, and if you began to stumble he would ask you the question out loud. If you hesitated or didn't answer he would pull out a ruler and pop you on the knuckles. After leaving your knuckles as numb knobs he would calmly precede to his prior task. He would never raise his voice, become angry, or even move an eyebrow he was the definition of cool, calm and collective.

After the lesson he would ask you if you wanted to tag along to his daily excursion, and my answer was always yes. We would hop in his Ford and ride down to the laundromat. Grandpa would sit there with his friend and converse over the rumbling of the machines. I never knew what was so exciting about an old laundromat, but that didn't matter. In those moments, the only thing that existed was the machines, and the counting of time through every tumble and rumble. I would run, play and explore and then we would grab ice-cream or a hot sausage from the corner store and proceeding home.

Grandpa was no super grandpa. He was real and that was what made him special. He would say quirky things such as “nothin gets a fish in trouble but its mouth” and “meet me around the house." If you asked his opinion he would give you an honest answer and did not mind to spare your feelings. Grandpa was the man and he inspired everyone whether threw his food, his conversation, or just his presence, you would remember Charlie.

My grandfather died as he lived, peaceful. His life was full of grace in essence and in sentiment. Wherever he went and whoever he touched a new feeling of love and hope sparked in their hearts, where it was either burrowed deep or non existing. His eyes, as gray as a silver fox, could see the good, the bad and even the horrific and still embrace you as if he only had seen you as a friend. My grandfather was a very passionate man when it came to life, he didn't have enemies or “haters." He had family and friends.

My grandfather brought joy with him as if it were his shadow or his smile. I have memories of when I lived with him in Miami, and as soon as you entered the house giant mirrors consumed the wall behind the door. If I know my grandfather he was either in the kitchen cooking a hearty meal or in his chair watching TV with me and my cousin and siblings. His teachings never left me, and I try my best to this very day to try and make him proud and continue his legacy through my own life.

Readers will probably think we worshipped him, but that's the thing about my grandfather. He could've been an island in a sea of conception and sin but you'd never know because with all the greatness my grandfather had he never gloated or complained. He moved on, and as he learned the hardships of life he was humbled by them and carried them on through family, friends and even complete strangers. He has affected so many people in his time and he still is today. Yes he is gone and it is a sad thing, but he shall never die because his legacy will forever linger in our existence.