Grandfather

There are few men whom I have admired, and I mean that on a personal level. Sure I have looked up to certain writers and historical figures, but of the people I have met and known, my grandfather is perhaps the only man I have greatly respected. It pains me to now write that he passed away at the age of 99.

Dad said his time had come. I understand this. I knew it from when I last saw him in New Mexico almost a year ago. He was old, frail and tired. He could hardly stay awake for more than 5 hours a day. Communication was difficult.

My aunt Marla, who was looking after him at the time told me many things about him I never knew. Probably because I had never before asked. One story she told me was of how he proposed to Grandma.

Grandfather, when he was a young man, saw her on campus at university and at first sight knew she was the woman for him. He talked to her and over time got to know her. They then become a couple, though in those days the rules of dating were conservative. It was long walks and hand holding at best. But Grandfather did not mind the slow build up to their romance. He enjoyed her company and treasured every moment together.

Finally, he knew he wanted to marry her. To do so he first needed to ask the father for his daughters hand in marriage. He walked to Grandmothers house, to where the road led on to their property. Hesitantly he paused, then walked away, only to return a few minutes later. The second time it was much the same thing. Little did he know Grandma was in her bedroom by the window, watching him. His arrival at her home could mean only one thing.

She was beside herself with joy, but at the same time frightened by the possibility he might have a change of heart and not come all the way to the door. But the third time he appeared he was determined. Their fates were then intertwined and they would spend the next 70 years of their lives together.

For me love has never been so simple and I doubt it ever will be.

It came time to say good by to Grandfather when I was ready to leave his home in Toas. I knelt down beside him. He was on the sofa, breathing lightly, the world around him fading in and out. When I took his hand he came to.

"Ya me voy Abuelo," I told him.

"Ah, si, pues.." he mumbled, still not entirely there.

"Te quiero mucho."

"A ti te quiero tambien."

I began to cry, not wanting to leave him. "Te quiero, te quiero, pero tengo que irme."

"Si. lo se. Y temo que ya nos vemos mas."

His word shattered my heart. He already knew we would never meet again. And I knew it too. But I didn't want to hear him say it, not like that, not when I was unprepared for it.

I loved my Grandfather. In a lot aways I wanted to be like him. He was a teacher. So am I. He travelled the world. So have I. He had a certain gentleness to him. So have I.

Until I draw my final breath, a part of him will live on inside me. And moreover, I will strive to lead my life, to whatever extent I can, in his memory.