When I was a wee chubby thing, my grandfather was a giant to me. Towering over six feet, stately in his stature, with shoulders as broad as I was tall, he amazed me. He was a doctor, retiring from Cleveland Clinic and writing a textbook on preventative medicine that mystified me as much as he did. The book was inches and inches thick. He has the brain of a scientist and the heart of an artist. He took unbelievable photographs, and could draw with the precision that a surgeon must use when bearing a scalpel. He had an eye for detail, passing on to me a love for the art of stamps from all over the world. We did puzzles together when we visited his house in Cleveland as children.
It is never that easy in families. These are the beautiful things I remember as my heart breaks having just lost him. My heart breaks for the pain not healed and the lives not reconciled and pray that reconciliation is stronger than death. But what I will remember is how he participated in forming me.
He gave me roots. His big Swedish face and strong Nordic spirit feels deeply rooted in my soul. And every time I draw, every time I am praised as having the eye or hand for art, I think of him. in many ways, my ability and love for visual expression came from him, through my mom to me. He is a bit of what makes me me, and so I will carry him with my everyday, step by step, one little bit at a time.
1 comment:
Oh Abby,
My deepest condolences to you. I am so sorry for your loss. May his memory be a blessing to you and your entire family.
I pray that you are able to find comfort from one another at this difficult time.
Leah
Post a Comment