Friday, April 14, 2006

Every day people are born and people die. Human beings come into this world and leave it—most without their names being immortalized in any history books. Millions of people have lived and worked and loved and died without making any great claims to fame or fortune.

But they aren’t forgotten—not by their friends, not by their families. And some of these people, some very special people, are not forgotten even by those who hardly knew them. My grandfather was one of these very special people.

What made him so special? Why is he remembered not only by friends and family but even by casual acquaintances? Very simply, because he was the essence of love. More than that, he was the essence of what I think of as “active” love. Just as his heart was not empty, his words were not empty.

I think he taught me everything I needed to live and make my mark in this world. He taught me everything I know. But he din't teach me everything he knows.

His lessons to me were sometimes a few words and sometimes they were long converstions. But each one molded the man I am today. I long to go back to be taught but one last time by the giant of the man with not much to say.

But all I can do is feel sad as he is gone, his lessons taught, his time here expired. I dreamed of my Grandfather last night but this time no tears fell and I awoke with a smile.

I realized he had given me one last lesson of life and love that had to be learned through the pain of death and crying. That if you hold someone you love tightly in your heart, then they will always be with you and a part of you, even in dying.

At the core of my grandfather's soul was love for his family. It is simultaneously his greatest pride and disappointment, and he loved us all with a mixture of love and resignation.