for love thursday.
At Chookooloonks, via Kristin’s.
Me and my grandpa, 1975.
He is turning 82 this year, the same year I turned 32.
I love him more than I know how to explain, and though he is getting older and sicker and further down a difficult road, I still see an incredible light and strength in his eyes.
Sometimes it’s the worst thing in the world to watch him age and falter, since he’s used to being the toughest guy in the room. Especially since I know he’s taking it hard.
He doesn’t quite get how I manage to make a living by writing, because he spent 43 years and more working with his hands to support his family. And even when that was done, he still had his workshop and his garden and his car to wash.
Now his hands are weaker, even as mine grow stronger and I get a greater grip on who I am and what I want. And I don’t spend nearly as much time with him as I should.
Still, when he takes my hand as I kiss him on the cheek, leaving after dinner, or after popping by to watch the hockey game, I can remember being the little girl in his arms.
He will always be the toughest guy in any room.
That’s why he’s still fighting.
Love you, Poppa.
August 17th, 2006 at 9:42 pm
Steve used to call him Sgt. Rock…
August 17th, 2006 at 9:46 pm
I’m going through it with my dad.
This is a tough stage of life…especially for the really tough guys.
August 17th, 2006 at 9:53 pm
That is a lovely, lovely picture.
August 18th, 2006 at 7:34 am
Found you thru the “Love Thursday” link at Chook, and just wanted to let you know that your post brought tears to my eyes and memories to my mind of my own precious Papaw, who passed in ‘89. I miss him everyday, and carry his pocketknife with me at all times, just to have a piece of him with me. I understand the bond between a grandfather and granddaughter very well.
August 18th, 2006 at 8:27 am
That was my Pop, too. And is my Mom, only in the feminine sense - she’s 95, amazingly.