Reading Jonathan Safran Foer’s novel Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was not just a school assignment because of the memories it helped evoke some pleasant memories. I was touched by how the old Mr. Black loved Oskar like a grandson even though they weren’t related. It wasn’t because I was surprised that he put in the effort, it’s not that hard to love someone even if you’re not related to them, it was because I had a similar experience. I have always had my grandparents from my mother’s side of the family and I love them dearly. My father’s side of the family is a bit trickier. His mother, my grandmother, was married and had two kids. Her husband, like all Russian men, had to go and fight in the war and sadly died on the battlefield. My grandmother remarried and my father was born. There was a lot of turmoil within the family because even though my grandmother’s new husband treated my dad like a child, he did not treat the children from the first marriage with the same love. Due to this my grandmother divorced him and he lived in Israel until he died a few years ago. I had never spoken to him nor did he send me a postcard or call on my birthdays. Perhaps he was distancing himself like Oskar’s grandfather but to be completely honest, I don’t care. Throughout my childhood I had another grandfather. Although our bloodlines were different, we loved each other like family. His name was Feydor, but everyone just called him Fedya. He was my grandmother’s neighbor and they spent every waking moment of every day together. I would stay with my grandmother and the tree of us would walk around Brooklyn together, go to the parks, and buy a large container of lemon sorbet to eat later on. Fedya didn’t have to do all of those things; he didn’t have to love me but he did. I don’t forgive my biological grandfather for what he did but I am truly thankful that Fedya filled the void that he left.