The Cigar I Never Got to Smoke With My Grandpa

There are things you don’t fully understand as a child, but you never forget them. For me, one of those things was cigars.

I can still picture sitting in the room with my grandpa. He would pull out a cigar with a kind of quiet joy, the kind that comes from years of routine and reflection. He’d light it, take his time with it, and then slowly release smoke rings like it was second nature. Other times, he’d sit with his pipe, packing it carefully, puffing it while the grandkids played around him. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t loud. It was steady, calm, and full of presence.

My grandpa was my only living grandfather. My mom’s dad died when she was just 11 days old, so I never knew him. But the one I did have—I adored him. I was even born on his birthday. For eighteen years, I got to celebrate my life on the same day as his. To me, he wasn’t just my grandfather; he was a legend. And as a kid, I often found myself thinking, “One day, I want to sit there with him and share one of those cigars.”

As I got older and left for college, that dream stayed with me. I imagined coming home for Christmas, turning 19, and finally sitting down with him as an adult. Not just as grandson and grandpa, but as two men talking about life over a cigar. I could almost see it—winter air, quiet conversation, and that simple moment of connection I had looked forward to for years.

But life didn’t unfold the way I expected. Right before I came home, my grandpa had to undergo a heart valve replacement. And as the Lord allowed it, he never recovered from that surgery. Just like that, the moment I had been waiting on my entire life was gone.

That dream of sitting with him over a cigar was never fulfilled. And that loss shaped something deeper in me than I realized at the time.

Not a cigar goes by now that I don’t think of him. I enjoy them, yes—but first and foremost, I enjoy them to the glory of God, and also in memory of my grandpa. Every draw carries a reminder of where I came from, and who helped shape my life in ways I didn’t fully grasp until he was gone.

The 4 Freedom cigar line that I’ve had the opportunity to start is built on that very idea. It’s more than tobacco and craftsmanship. It’s an avenue for slowing down, for sitting across from someone you care about, and for making memories that matter. It’s about fellowship. It’s about presence. It’s about creating space in a hurried world to simply be with people.

We have liberty in Christ and freedom in His sacrifice. That truth shapes everything we do. Each cigar is crafted in faith and designed to be enjoyed in the company of believers, friends, and neighbors. The goal is simple: to create moments that turn into memories, and conversations that turn into lifelong connections.

Over the years, I’ve been asked many times, “Why do you smoke cigars?” The surface answer is easy. It’s the slowing down. It’s the reflection. It’s the quiet pause in a busy life. But the deeper answer is rooted in heritage. It’s a connection to my grandfather that time can’t erase. And it’s an opportunity to build new connections with the people God places in my life today.

Scripture keeps that perspective grounded. Proverbs 27:1 reminds us, “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring.” James 4:14 says life is like a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes. There’s a striking picture in that—the smoke of a cigar rising and disappearing into the air. It mirrors our own lives: brief, fragile, and fleeting.

So the call is simple. Make today count for God’s glory. Slow down enough to see the people in front of you. Speak life. Share goodness. Don’t wait for the “someday” moments that may never come.

And if you ever sit down with one of our cigars, I hope it does what it was designed to do. Not just give you a good smoke, but remind you to pause, to remember, and to value the time you’ve been given.

Because in the end, it’s not really about cigars at all.

It’s about people. It’s about memory. And it’s about living life while you still have it.

James Safrit - 4 Freedom Cigar Co.