This is a picture of my grandpa:
My Grandpa O. was my wise old owl. All of these creatures I’ve drawn and painted are based on real people. Here’s my grandpa with my brother –>
After carrying it around with him for 91 years, the body I had drawn him in wasn’t working for him any more and so that wise old owl decided to fly away from it. It is sad to see him leave, but he had been nesting with another for 58 years. That beautiful other bird had flown away from her body 4 years ago and, well, birds of a feather flock together, you know. To see half of a flock miss the other half so much is a very sad thing. So the happy part is that He doesn’t have to miss Her anymore.
And parts of each of them will live on here with me, because:
I have history coursing through my veins;
the collection of stories
that make us.
Each one of us is a link between those who came before us
and those who are not yet here.
The poetry of life is such that,
as one goes out,
another comes in;
a great grandfather leaves a body that he didn’t need any more
and a great granddaughter celebrates her first birthday.
Life begets life.
It is a small and perfect window of opportunity
to shower each other with gifts.
No one is ever really gone so long as someone remembers;
someone looks down at their own hands – the delicate flesh surging with life, so close beneath the surface – and knows where it came from;
who is living on inside.
And we can make changes along the way
so that we can do right by our DNA.
My life is an opportunity to honour a wonderful man:
a storyteller; a corny joke maker; a toilet-plunger-waiving music conductor (true story); an adoring husband; a loving father; an entertaining and inspiring grandfather; a delighted great grandfather.
Everyone so touched
by the gifts of another
is a lucky someone.
And lucky again
every time over
for each loving person
in that someone’s life.
We have a lifetime of gifts to celebrate
and we have each other to do it with
all have history
in our veins.
I love you, Grandpa. Thank you.