I have only ever known Kay Wilson as one thing: my grandfather. As a child, I had no comprehension that this towering figure who was always good for a hug or a chocolate donut was a well-rounded person who had lived a life full of love, loss and miracles. Instead, he was simply my grandpa. As I aged, I began to see glimmers of this good manâs life. Instead of seeing my grandfather, I began to see a young man asking the pretty girl to marry him. I began to see the man working hard every day to come home to his wife and two children. I began to see the middle-aged man tipping the nice waiter a little extra because he understood how hard life can be. In short, I began to value his heart, not just because he was my grandfather, but because he is a man of service.