Thursday

Grandpa Jack would sit in this front lawn taking in all the sights and sounds for hours upon hrs. Never sweating in the mid Atlantic summer or cold in the late fall. Just letting life and his grand kids play out. This yard holds a lot when grandparents are here. You knew, as he was having them, these were very deep memories for him.

There’s a wiffleball out of the yard today. Just sitting there being yellow,  drizzled on. not cold or even able to notice the gray. Unhindered nor hurt, just a wiffle ball in the yard today.

I asked my grandmother wherever she was milling about in the after-world, to visit grandpa Jack, maybe sit with him as he holds on. She knows he’s holding on, exactly where he is holding and probably been there already. Maybe I asked her because it makes me feel useful. Can she go see my wife, Nona and Auntie, even with their over capacity for strength, to touch their shoulders.

It becomes even more overcast and spits rain.

Me anyway, I think I know what the end of the day feeling is like. I’ve maybe felt the vast aloneness that comes when you realize life is finite. For whatever reason, I’ve swallowed that. When someone you love dearly might be going through this for the first time its the same as having that feeling yourself. She is feeling like she could be losing her father. I want to be there for you.

What do you recall in times like these? it all comes down to the moments, the ones right here. All the rest isn’t worth the memory.

Jack in his particular domain is a great man. But this is not a eulogy. To mention his iconic life is the hope he sees it that way. And holds on. He has the love of a huge family all the way; much good fortune; a gregariousness and generosity you rarely see; was able to recover from his mistakes – he’s having a full life, all the things you really want.

Friday

The sounds on the street in the city are too much today.

If for some reason he can’t keep it going, we will keep it going for him…

The sun is still (always) trying to shine through. There are blue tiny patches losing out to the gray engulfing clouds. Occasionally, indirect sun splinters to meet the wet autumn leaves. It’s there, a beautiful day, pushing out the blue of the sky.

Leaves that fall are picked up or subsumed. The next season seems to rush in. The wiffle ball becomes meditative as loose-change sun rays pop crystals off the long green grass.

2:15 on Friday, Grandpa Jack heads to heaven.

I just feel lucky to know him when I did. So blessed for what he made here. As I hold his legacy in my arms, we are so sad and pray for peaceful ascent to the great yards, the surety of faith and those who knew and loved him, especially my sweet wife, her mother and Auntie — such beautiful people.

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