There was an aura to my Grandpa, as if he were an anchored boat in his own safe harbour, lit by an ever risen sun.
Grandpa had been through so much that the storms of everyday living were all gentle breezes to him. He was ever calm, ever kind, ever thoughtful and nurturing. I can't imagine who I'd be today without him.
Grandpa was a safety net, an emotional bay where the weather was always perfect, where the sun always shone. He was my safe place.
The orphanage, the war years, the struggles for a good life... had carved the kindest and most rock steady man I ever was blessed to love.
Grandpa was my role model and idol, for in those precious lived years he had become so very wise and loving.
The spring days were spent in the garden, Grandpa and me. He planted his runner beans, courgettes and more. There were the days of bright sunshine, blue skies that sung of the summer to come; there were the days of cloud-filtered rays, the ones that made the world so cozy. There were the days it began to rain, and instead of dashing inside we stayed in the garden to dance, to taste that feast of water. That was my world, we two, happy with the earth, sunshine and rain.
Grandpa was a sculpture of aged wisdom, the kind you can only earn by being of hero heart and stoic soul.
Grandpa lived for the simple joy of the ocean waters, of the beach kissed by the first gentle rays. And by this example I learned to receive the day as a given thing, a moment that expands along with the heart.