My Dead Grandfather
My dead grandfather came alive in my dreams
last night, sitting beside my side of the bed in a
lawn chair, the old kind with latticed strips of
bright-striped fabric, the kind everybody had
before things got complicated. He said nothing
but reached with his left hand and took my right
and held it longer than I expected but that was
alright with me for I’ve not seen him in a long
time, not in this life or my dreams. As my dead
grandfather released his grasp and stood to leave
I spoke through tears: I never really knew you. He
paused, smiled, pointed to the west window, then
whispered so as not to wake the house: Just see
where this life takes you. There’s a lot left to be
described. You knew I loved you. That is enough.
Just beautiful.
“There’s a lot left to be described,” which you will, because you’re willing to live it first. That’s the only kind of describing I trust. Thank you for that, John.
Now that’s a good dream. I’m grateful for the description. The sharing.
Western light, as the light at day’s end, suits the spirit of the man you are, John. And words offered with plenty of breathing room … they’re the very best kind. Perhaps that’s why your grandpa knew to point to the aperture that faced west.
Love … it’s the very best when it’s offered with plenty of breathing room too.
Oh, beautiful. I hope that is what my own grandkids remember – that I loved them. Like crazy, to the point of pain, up to the eyeballs with wonder and gratitude. Yes. That. Thanks for this loveliness.
Wow.
It’s breathtaking, John. Literally. You made me catch-gasp.
Where are you going, Grandpa? And can I come?
“You knew I loved you. That is enough.” Amen! Beautiful!