May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
-Unknown
Today, I am entertaining thoughts about my Irish grandfather.
I like to daydream about what our relationship would be like now (he passed away when I was 12). In my mind, I see us sharing the same quick-witted, sick sense of humor. I relish in imagining having a casual lunch with him and laughing jovially, or discussing life during marathon conversations that are persistent into the night. It saddens me a bit that we could not know each other in this comfortable, gregarious way.
My mother often tells me that Grandpa would be proud of me; however, this is usually said when I have an Irish beer in my hand. Anyway, I digress...
He told the most elaborate leprechaun stories to me as a child. I remember them vividly!
"If you do not believe in the leprechauns, they will stuff wet grass into your shoes!" or, "The leprechauns will dance, on St. Patty's eve, under the moonlight. In the morning, look for the ring tattered into the dewy lawn."
I know these narratives to be true... Every year, where the magical fellas had danced with merriment, there was a circle playfully worn into the backyard . And once, my Aunt Vickie found soggy foliage in her slippers (I bet she hasn't made that mistake again!).
As I have become an adult and years pass, the memory of him becomes more of an enigma, or an old Irish fable.
The scent of his collar no longer lingers in my memory, and the richness of his voice is gone too. Conversely, I do remember his love of art and photography (I like to think my talents are from him). Also, I can still recall his easy smile, playful candor, and his comical antics while teasing me.
I miss you, Grandpa.
This Guinness is for you...
Sláinte!
I like to daydream about what our relationship would be like now (he passed away when I was 12). In my mind, I see us sharing the same quick-witted, sick sense of humor. I relish in imagining having a casual lunch with him and laughing jovially, or discussing life during marathon conversations that are persistent into the night. It saddens me a bit that we could not know each other in this comfortable, gregarious way.
My mother often tells me that Grandpa would be proud of me; however, this is usually said when I have an Irish beer in my hand. Anyway, I digress...
He told the most elaborate leprechaun stories to me as a child. I remember them vividly!
"If you do not believe in the leprechauns, they will stuff wet grass into your shoes!" or, "The leprechauns will dance, on St. Patty's eve, under the moonlight. In the morning, look for the ring tattered into the dewy lawn."
I know these narratives to be true... Every year, where the magical fellas had danced with merriment, there was a circle playfully worn into the backyard . And once, my Aunt Vickie found soggy foliage in her slippers (I bet she hasn't made that mistake again!).
As I have become an adult and years pass, the memory of him becomes more of an enigma, or an old Irish fable.
The scent of his collar no longer lingers in my memory, and the richness of his voice is gone too. Conversely, I do remember his love of art and photography (I like to think my talents are from him). Also, I can still recall his easy smile, playful candor, and his comical antics while teasing me.
I miss you, Grandpa.
This Guinness is for you...
Sláinte!
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3 comments:
Thanks for sharing your memories with us. Your grandfather sounds divine!
What a lovely tribute to your granddad. I hope my daughter has that special relationship and memories of my dad when she is older. She is 4 now so hopefully she will have lots of time to make lots of memories.
Simply lovely. Wonderful memories, thank you for sharing.
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