The Little Black Notebook

I didn’t care about my degree. I didn’t care about my business. And I sure didn’t care about the twenty-thousand dollar check that was just handed to me.

I just wanted him back.

I was standing in the middle of my parent's living room when I was handed the money. It was the day of my medical school graduation and I had just walked the stage to receive my diploma. I have a rather large family and my parents tend to throw hefty celebrations when it comes to my achievements or birthdays.

It might have something to do with me being an only child since funds for parties don’t have to be spread across to other siblings. Usually, I didn’t mind them. I wasn’t a fan of big groups of people but I would say my ‘thank yous’ and make my rounds greeting all of the family and friends that would attend.

That college graduation celebration was no different. Except for the fact that the week before it, was kind of the worst week of my life. I lost one of my best friends.

My Grandpa.

He passed away from cancer a week before I was to graduate. He had been battling it for a few years, growing weaker by the month. But he always said, he would be at my graduation.

I didn’t care who was at my graduation as long as my Grandpa could be there. My hopes were shattered when I heard the news that we had lost him.

Ever since I was a kid, I had stuck to my Grandpa like glue. He took me everywhere. Hunting, fishing, horseback riding, tractor driving, you name it. Even the drive-in movie theater in town. If it had to do with the outdoors, we were there.

On top of the over joyous man that he was, I always looked up to him for how successful he had built several businesses. There was an antique shop called the Wild Lily and it turned into a franchise across several states.

There was a fire extinguisher company that grew rapidly through the city, which he then sold to a larger corporation.

He also was very prominent in oil drilling. He owned massive amounts of land covered with oil pumps down in New Mexico. Those suckers ran day and night amassing my Grandpa a fortune. At least I would imagine.

He never talked about wealth or finances with me. He was very reserved when I would ask him questions about income and capital gains. He didn’t seem to care much about that stuff. It was like he just built businesses to build businesses. It’s what he liked to do.

He was the busiest man I knew, but somehow he always had time for me and our little adventures. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. There was no doubt that I inherited his entrepreneurial bug.

As I got into my freshman year of medical school, I had decided to start a company, just like my Grandpa. It was a company that trained new students on how to prepare and study for big medical entrance exams. It was a slow start but by my fifth year of college, it was growing very quickly. I even had to hire a few employees to cover digital marketing, customer service, and help teach some of the online classes that we provided.

I’m very sad to say that my relationship with my Grandpa slowed down as my business sped up.

As life kept going, I found that my time was taken up by more and more stuff. Running a full-time business as well as taking hours and hours of medical classes. Sleep was a distant memory to me.

I did get to see my Grandpa one last time the night before he passed away, though. It was like old times. He called me “little fart” as per usual and we laughed and joked reminiscing about past memories we had together. I thought he was still in good shape when I left that night, but I think he purposefully helped walk me through memories of us because he knew deep down that that was going to be the last time he would get to talk to me.

Damn, do I miss him.

I always asked him what his secret to success was and he would pause, take a breath and say, “Just keep living.” I never was sure what he meant by that.<br>When I heard that he passed, I reserved myself to my room and cried for hours. But, through the tears, I could almost hear him still saying, “Just keep living.”

Anyway, like I was saying, I was in my parent's living room when my mom came up to me and handed me a twenty-thousand-dollar check.

“Who is this from?” I said. I looked back and forth to see if anyone else was around. Who would give me such a large sum of money?

“Your Grandpa did.” My mom said.

“Grandpa?” I asked.

“He left you this as a graduation gift to put towards your business.” I could see tears in her eyes. It was hard losing a Grandfather, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like losing a parent. And we had already lost Grandma three years prior.

I took the check from her and gave her a squeeze on her shoulder letting her know that everything was OK. She smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

“Oh,” She said turning back to me. “He also left you this. Told me to give it to you, the night he passed-” Her words faded before she could finish. She held out a little black notebook towards me.

My mouth dropped open. Is this really the little black notebook he carried around?

I accepted the gift and snuck away to my old room upstairs. I turn the light on my high school desk and sat down in my old swivel chair.

I stared at it in the palm of my hand. This wasn’t just any notebook. It was the notebook my Grandpa never let out of his sight. Not a day went by where he did not wear a pearl button-up shirt with a breast pocket. And in that breast pocket was always this notebook.

As a kid, I had made up in my mind that the secret to my Grandpa’s success was in this notebook. He would take a peek at its pages before every meeting he went into. When he would get off of a frustrating phone call, again he would take a look at it. Sometimes I’d see him make little marks on the pages with his sole blue pen, which also rode along in his breast pocket wherever he went.

Was I ready to open this notebook?

Yes. I. Was.

The cover of the notebook felt brittle as I cracked it open. The scent of oil, dirt, and hard work wafted from its pages. The same scent that clung to every piece of clothing my Grandpa wore. A could feel a tear roll down my cheek, just wishing that I could kick back with him on his front porch, pop a couple of cokes, and watch the sunrise, even if for a mere thirty-second more.

I took a breath and began to read the words. It wasn’t like an ordinary journal or anything. It was shortlists lined with checkboxes next to them.

Some pages had dates, some didn’t.

Among the lists, there were reoccurring activities on almost every page. And they were just small things.

• Watch the sunrise.
• Watch the sunset.
• Kiss Mary before work.
• Call Chris.
• Smell the fresh air.
• Pet the dog.
• Feel the grass.
• Listen to nature for five minutes.
• Walk around the pond.
• Take three deep breaths.

Feel the grass?

I flipped and flipped through the pages and that was it. There weren't any big goals he was tracking. There weren't any financial figures within the notebook's lines. It was just small daily activities that would normally come naturally to people.

Pet the dog?

This is what he looked at before walking into very important business meetings?

I read through the lists. And I read through them again.

Memories flooded back about the little ways Grandpa checked these boxes. He would take the time to take three deep breaths. He would stop what he was doing and take a knee, running his fingers through the soil he was standing on.

He would take the time to kiss Grandma before leaving for work. Even if that meant running back to the house through the pouring rain.

And he would take the time to keep up with me. Even though I knew there were some weeks he had so much on his plate. Even when my plate got full, and I forgot to keep up with him.

I smiled. I was finally starting to understand what he meant when he said, “Just keep living."

Then my eyes caught a glimpse of a note on the very last page of the little black notebook. I turned to it.

Chris,

I know you’re busy living and that’s OK. But make sure you don’t mistake being busy living with living busy. The secret to success isn’t the money or the fame you could gain, for it could never be enough. It’s by staying grounded and keeping that at the forefront of your mind.

We all get the same chance at life, but too many people are living so busy that they forget they are actually alive.

I love you, you little fart.

Grandpa

I got it. Those little lists were activities to keep him grounded in his day-to-day life. Lofty goals didn't matter to him. It was the everyday things that reminded him of the blessing of life.

I probably read that note fifty times.

When I was done, I closed the little black notebook and slid it into my pearl buttoned shirt breast pocket. I felt alive at that moment and I planned to keep it that way. But, I knew life is hard, and at some point, straight paths would begin to curve, and focused sight would begin to fog.

But I wasn’t worried. I was always going to have a piece of my Grandpa resting next to my heart, to clear the way and remind me that even though he was gone, I was still very much alive.