My friend lost his grandpa last week. He didn't wonder off, he passed away. Away from the mortal sight of his loved ones still on this earth. It has been several years since I have had the sight to see my own grandpas, I wanted to express, somehow, my empathy.
I know where you're at buddy.
I know where our grandpas are too. Busy and peaceful, safe and waiting.
ps, my radd and fearlessly loyal puppy dog Butch is there too.
That might not make you feel better. Maybe later it will.
I miss my grandpas every day. I miss their wisdom. I wish I had known then to ask them everything. I wish I had written down all of their stories. In times of discouragement I want to read their lives. I want to invent ‘Grandpa Google’, where all the answers come from the millions of wrinkles made moment by moment in the minds of those clever, brave, generous, resilient, tender men.
I feel the loss of their experience, especially now, as I step further and further every day into adulthood. I miss their hands. Huge, careful hands honed and infused with muscle memory and perfect timing. They were soft and generously folded with wrinkles where once had been hard callouses, tough skin, torn epidermis. They cradled my heart, wrapped all around my shoulders with long arms, still strong, and creaking joints. I remember laying my face in my grandpa’s large cool hand. His eyes had grown sad.
Love you Grandpa, love you both.
Thanks for the music, thanks for the laughs, for my parents who honor you, for the love you gave my Grandmas who miss you achingly. Thank you for a name I treasure, a place where I belong. Thank you for always looking at me like I was beautiful.
Wish you were here,