Grandfather’s Love (Grandpa's Love)

My Grandfather’s Love

As we neared the house I could see the front yard emerge amidst the hurricane-twisted pines that stood like sentinels guarding a castle. Pulling into the yard, I noticed that the grass looked like one of my great-grandmother's patchwork quilts. Old, but new in a way, shaded with varying hues of greens and browns seeming to be sewn together with sporadically mounted ant hills adjacent to a wondering dog's paw prints.

We pulled into the driveway slowly as not to disturb dust that lay sleeping on the broken concrete. With my arm half hanging out of the window, I tried to catch the snowflake blossoms of the dogwood trees that danced on the gusts of wind like lovers at a ball. From the yard the smell of grandma's fried chicken mingled with the wind, playing hide and seek with my senses. This visit seemed to be a little different from the rest of our Sunday afternoon outings to my grandparents' house. From the yard I could see the old rocker my grandfather sat leaned up against the half torn screen door of the entrance to the house. Stepping onto the half dilapidated porch I noticed that even the usual haunting creeks of the century old timbers seemed to sing a song of sorrow. My brother and I followed my mother as she opened the screen door to step inside.

Keeping almost silent I could see my beautiful grandmother sitting in the dining room in conversation with God. From the back I could see the curls of her long hair draped across her shoulders. As she turned around the sun set lazily in her hazel eyes as tears baptized her cheeks. Frozen like statues in a stone garden my mom, my brother and I were told the two words that shook the foundation of everything I knew to be good and strong: "He pa...

... middle of paper ...

... brought. My professor of life, he taught me the ins and outs of love and family. "Family is all you got, Shaun; without that you have nothing. Always remember that." Reciting those words in my consciousness filled me with an assurance that my grandfather in fact was not gone, just in another form.

Sitting there in his chair, reminiscing on the countless hours we spent together, made me realize love is never-ending. Even in his death my grandfather's love comforted me through the suffering of his loss. I felt renewed as I went into the house and wiped away the cascade of tears that had fallen from my grandmother's eyes. Leaning in close to her small frame I gently whispered, "I love you." With those words my grandmother took my hand and held me closer than ever before. She realized that even though he was gone he would still live on in our love and memories.