The trying part is more an emotional straining than anything, and I'm not even sure if I can call it that. I have found myself mourning the loss of a man I only met a handful of times and never spoke much more than a few dozen words to. The length of time between our meetings were long and that made any attempt at conversation especially awkward. When I was young, a grandfather was a man to be loved and cherished, even if he lived on the other side of the country. A man to be adored no matter how little you knew of him, a man who's attention you desired to seek and to obtain. I think as a person grows older, those childlike desires begin to wax and wane with time, especially if they go long untended. Having only met my paternal Grandfather maybe 5 times over the course of my life, I feel distanced from his passing, yet strangely disconcerted by it. My heart is sad and I wish I had known more of my Grandpa. I wish I had the opportunity to love him and to know him, as I had with my other Grandpa. And yet, maybe it is a blessing, in an odd, selfish way, because I'm not sure my heart could handle losing two such men so close together. I hurt for Grandpa Jim's family, for his adopted daughter, for his wife and his children. They are in my heart and in my prayers. And somehow, no matter how distant we actually were, I still loved that man. Good-bye my Grandpa Jim..... May 26, 1938-February 4, 2010
Friday, February 05, 2010
Heart Thoughts
It's been a week... On one hand, a good week. On the other, a trying week. This week I have spent an ample amount of time painting the staircase to our basement. It's the last part to be done for our basement project, with the exception of tiling behind out wood stove, which may never happen. I have crouched high and bent low to paint all the surrounding molding, risers, nooks and crannies, caulked till my fingers were raw, and still have more to do. But seeing progress for the first time in a month and a half is encouraging. This is the good portion of my week.
The trying part is more an emotional straining than anything, and I'm not even sure if I can call it that. I have found myself mourning the loss of a man I only met a handful of times and never spoke much more than a few dozen words to. The length of time between our meetings were long and that made any attempt at conversation especially awkward. When I was young, a grandfather was a man to be loved and cherished, even if he lived on the other side of the country. A man to be adored no matter how little you knew of him, a man who's attention you desired to seek and to obtain. I think as a person grows older, those childlike desires begin to wax and wane with time, especially if they go long untended. Having only met my paternal Grandfather maybe 5 times over the course of my life, I feel distanced from his passing, yet strangely disconcerted by it. My heart is sad and I wish I had known more of my Grandpa. I wish I had the opportunity to love him and to know him, as I had with my other Grandpa. And yet, maybe it is a blessing, in an odd, selfish way, because I'm not sure my heart could handle losing two such men so close together. I hurt for Grandpa Jim's family, for his adopted daughter, for his wife and his children. They are in my heart and in my prayers. And somehow, no matter how distant we actually were, I still loved that man. Good-bye my Grandpa Jim..... May 26, 1938-February 4, 2010
The trying part is more an emotional straining than anything, and I'm not even sure if I can call it that. I have found myself mourning the loss of a man I only met a handful of times and never spoke much more than a few dozen words to. The length of time between our meetings were long and that made any attempt at conversation especially awkward. When I was young, a grandfather was a man to be loved and cherished, even if he lived on the other side of the country. A man to be adored no matter how little you knew of him, a man who's attention you desired to seek and to obtain. I think as a person grows older, those childlike desires begin to wax and wane with time, especially if they go long untended. Having only met my paternal Grandfather maybe 5 times over the course of my life, I feel distanced from his passing, yet strangely disconcerted by it. My heart is sad and I wish I had known more of my Grandpa. I wish I had the opportunity to love him and to know him, as I had with my other Grandpa. And yet, maybe it is a blessing, in an odd, selfish way, because I'm not sure my heart could handle losing two such men so close together. I hurt for Grandpa Jim's family, for his adopted daughter, for his wife and his children. They are in my heart and in my prayers. And somehow, no matter how distant we actually were, I still loved that man. Good-bye my Grandpa Jim..... May 26, 1938-February 4, 2010
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2 comments:
My dear daughter, I think you have hit the nail right on the head as even your father does not know quite how to grieve. There is a part of us that hurts deeply and another part that isn't sure what to feel. I think your Grandpa loved us in the only way he really knew how and we him. Your little sister is hurting in much the same way as you.
Bethany, I am praying for all of you.
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