Hey... that's not a Dreamcast...
While playing around lately with my old 360, it sparked a wave of memories and nostalgia, not for the games or the System....
but for the reason I even have it.
This is a rather short one, and no real pictures I can post with it. Just a fond memory.
I remember that day really well. My grandfather asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I didn’t have to beg or plead, but I had told him a few times not to worry about it. But he just asked anyway, and I knew exactly what to say. I told him I wanted an Xbox 360, thinking he would see it as frivolous and get me something else. It was the latest thing then, and I’d been hearing all my friends talk about it. He listened carefully, then nodded and said he’d get it for me. I could see the sincerity in his eyes...
like he genuinely wanted to do something special for me.
A little backstory: He was a World War II veteran, a good man, and had been there for me and my brother when we really needed him. I honestly think the man cared more for us both than our parents did. He was a strict man, but always fair about how he saw things. He wouldn't let me get away with murder by any means, but he did often look the other way on certain things, More for me than my Brother....
Like when he caught me and my first girlfriend in a rather, let’s say, compromising situation that any other person his age, I am sure, would have had our heads for what we were doing. He was a cool guy, honestly.
The day we went to the store, I was excited but also a little hesitant. I didn't like accepting birthday anything, even then. We wandered through the aisles filled with games and accessories, and I kept sneaking glances at the sleek console that I’d been dreaming about. My grandfather was always calm, patient, asking questions about whatever My brother or I where interested in, about things he or I wanted. We talked about how things had changed, how gaming was a part of my life. He found the notion of video games being important silly and childish, if only he could see things now, huh? Looking back, I realize he was trying to connect, even if he didn’t fully understand it.
That night, I set it all up... he watched. I remember staying up late, feeling like I was on top of the world. I played a few rounds of Dead or Alive 4, just messing around, laughing at how bad I was. But that Xbox wasn’t just a gift...
it became a symbol of that moment of kindness, of him trying to be part of what I loved.
It was the last thing he ever bought me.
The Xbox my grandfather bought me that day, my brother, some years later drew Gir on it for me because he knew how much I love Invader Zim. Why he did it is a story for another time. It's older than some users here!
Not long after that, everything changed. He passed away suddenly out of nowhere. It hit me like a punch to the gut.
I was left with this empty feeling that I still carry. That Xbox, that last gift, became more than just a console. It’s the only thing I have left of him, a reminder of that day and of how much he cared, even if he didn’t say it outright.
Sometimes I look at it and feel this ache inside, like a part of myself is gone forever. That was the last thing he ever bought me, and now it’s also a symbol of what I lost.
Even now, I hold onto it tightly. Every time I power it up, I think about him and that day, and the quiet sadness that came after. It’s strange how something so simple can carry so much weight...
love, loss, memories that never fade. That gift is more than a console, it’s a reminder of that bond we had, now broken but never really gone.
Years have gone by, and a lot has changed. Thanks to Abadupdate and ABadavatar, I can now play my old Xbox 360 games from an external drive, along with any others I want, ones I couldn’t afford years ago or even had the time to think about. No discs, just plug it in, pick the game I want, and it loads it up. It’s like having a digital library right at my fingertips, ready whenever I want to dive back into those worlds.
Sometimes, it rushes over me however...
the memory of that day, and shortly after, my grandfather watching me play a game before his passing. Asking "How come those actors keep saying the same line" when I would choose the wrong option in something or the like.
He didn’t quite grasp the concept...
These weren’t real people on screen. And I sit and think about that day my grandfather asked what I wanted for my birthday. I remember how happy I was, how proud I felt that he wanted to do something for me.
I wish he could see me now, how I’ve learned to keep that memory alive, how I’ve sort of figured out life on my own. That Xbox, those games....
they’re more than just entertainment.
They’re a connection to him, a way to keep him close even after all these years.
Every time I fire up an old favorite, a wave of memories hits me.
I think about this last gift he gave me, how it was more than a console.
It's a piece of him. It’s funny how something so simple can carry so much weight. That last gift still feels like a hug, even though he’s gone. It’s a reminder that even in the hardest times, those bonds don’t really break...
they stay with us, in small things, in quiet moments.
Now I enjoy these games whenever I want, in a way he could never imagine.
It’s almost like I’ve brought that part of him into my world again. I’ve gone from being a kid who just wanted a new game console to someone who’s figured out how to keep that part of him alive through technology.
And every time I play, I feel closer to him, like he’s right here with me, in a different way.
Sometimes I get lost in those memories....
I think about how much he meant to me and how he never stopped trying to understand what I loved.
That last gift isn’t just about the games or the console anymore, it’s about all the love and effort he put into making me happy. And even though he’s long since passed, I know he’d be proud of how I’ve kept that connection alive.
It sounds like your grandfather is to you a lot like what my grandmother is to me.
