I lived with my grandfather for 2 years. I never expected we'd become best friends.

• When I moved in with my grandfather during the pandemic, I expected a repetitive routine.
• Having time every day for meaningful conversations and activities allowed us to become best friends.
• My grandfather taught me how to intentionally invest in relationships.

My earliest memory of my grandfather is sitting on his knee after he came home from work. I would count our cuts, scrapes, scabs, and bruises together — his from his construction job, mine from overzealous climbing at the playground.

He was the epitome of toughness in my eyes, and I aspired to amass an equal amount of superficial wounds that matched the ones that always covered his hands and arms like a warrior's tattoos.

This tough man would melt himself down in my presence, readily hunching his huge frame over so that I could inspect the newest additions to the collage on his skin. In gentle tones, he would express admiration for the minor injuries I proudly presented to him on my own little arms.

This is my grandfather in a nutshell: a hard, intimidating man to the rest of the world, but a marshmallow with me. This soft side of him was the reason I, at 28, decided to move in with him for a few months before starting a yearlong solo trip around the world.

Becoming housemates helped us make up for lost time

My grandfather has always been an unwavering source of unconditional love in my life. But developing a sense of independence as a young adult — traveling, pursuing romantic relationships, growing my career, and generally building a life for myself — came at the cost of our relationship. A distance formed from the inevitable movements of two lives lived on different paths.

I made what time I could for my grandfather, calling him at least once a week and visiting for weekend trips that always ended too soon. But as years passed after my grandmother's death, I felt an increasing urgency to do more with the time I had with my grandfather.

Time was exactly what I got when I moved in with him. The pandemic turned "just a few months" into an almost two-year intergenerational living experiment.

He went from Grandpa to a best friend

I had assumed when I moved in that we would spend most of our time at home, watching movies, cooking, and talking. I thought it would be quiet, and maybe even a little repetitive. I expected to take care of him, doing the household chores while he sat nearby chatting with me.

But he ended up taking care of me just as much as I tried to take care of him. He insisted on cooking dinners for me, so I could rest after working all day. His enthusiasm when I landed a client or assignment was always genuine and exuberant. He was happy to defer most household decisions to me and would surprise me with little treats when he ran errands. He almost always went along with my spontaneous, sometimes off-the-wall ideas like driving 14 hours to bottlefeed baby deer, adopting two kittens when one of his cats died unexpectedly, going on a mini-vacation to Rhode Island when our entire neighborhood lost power for days, or renovating the dining room into a high-scale playroom for his already spoiled cats.

Most of all, my grandfather was always looking for ways to make me laugh. I had known he could be lighthearted and funny at times, but living with him let me see how silly he was willing to be. Laughing with him, getting to know him well enough to anticipate his laughter, and how to elicit it, created a connection between us that could not have been replicated in any other way.

I learned how to invest in relationships

This new dynamic allowed me to see him, for the first time, as a whole person outside his role as my grandfather. The first time he got choked up telling a story about his father, my world shifted. Outside my grandmother's funeral, I had never before seen my grandfather express that kind of depth of emotion. This man, who had always been unfazed by physical pain when I was a kid, carried grief and sorrow. It was a revelatory discovery, and encouraged me to listen more deeply when he spoke.

I began to see him as a fascinating, multifaceted human with nuanced opinions, a complex history, and a surprising capacity for awe. This is how we went from being a grandfather and a granddaughter before I moved in to being best friends, co-conspirators, and equals as housemates.

Living together, especially through the pandemic, forced me to slow down and focus on the full person in front of me. I learned how to be a better listener. I learned that caring for loved ones takes different forms and depends on the individual's needs. Most importantly, I learned that investing in relationships over time creates a profound sense of connection.

It was a gift to learn these lessons in my late 20s. I am more intentional now about creating opportunities for quality time with my siblings, my partner, my grandparents, and my closest friends. Where possible, I no longer give them material gifts wrapped in pretty paper. Instead, I take them on adventures wrapped in laughter, silly photos, and meaningful conversations.

The bruises and cuts that now cover my grandfather's paper-thin skin are from living life in his 80s on blood thinners. Three decades later, we no longer sit together "counting boo-boos," but we don't need to. Instead, we count the many memories we have made together, before we set off making new ones.