I was there and I saw what happened so you would think I could share the tale with you but the reality is pieces of it are a blur and some aren’t for public consumption.
What I can tell you is when I was a little boy my father told me not to worry because he said he would go right through the gates of hell to protect us.
I believed him and have a few stories that proved it to me.
Thought about it today when we made our way to visit him at the cemetery. It was my first time back since 2019 and five years to the day when we buried him.
The family mentioned how the rabbi asked me to stop shoveling dirt into his grave because it was well into the nineties and he was concerned about my safety.
I remember politely refusing and telling him there was no point in asking. I also remember him taking a shovel alongside of myself and other friends/family members.
It wasn’t quite as hot today as it was then, but it was hot enough that I could feel the sweat dripping down my back.
Walking In Their Footsteps
That is my father in my grandfather’s arms in the picture above. I see a resemblance between myself at a similar age and my dad in that photo.
There aren’t many where I see that as generally I resembled my mother more than him when I was little.
I remember walking down the hill carrying dad’s casket towards his grave and hoping none of us slipped. I am right handed but made a point to use my left so that others could use their dominant hand.
Can’t tell you if it took three days or three minutes to walk him down the hill, just that we did it.
I walked up the hill today to the road and remembered a moment when I was quite little and I was out with the two of them.
“Dad, grandpa, I am going to walk in your footsteps so walk in a straight line.”
Can’t remember if my father did but I remember grandpa laughing and doing his best to do as I asked. That wasn’t a big ask of him, grandpa would have done almost anything I asked or so it always seemed.
For a while when I visited grandpa I would put on his shoes and tell him I was walking in his footsteps. That used to make him laugh and I loved doing things that would make him do so. I used to get the same pleasure out of making my maternal grandfather laugh too.
In some ways they were an easy target because grandparents are often easy marks for grandchildren.
Eventually I got the two of them involved in my efforts to photo bomb people. Couldn’t tell you if there are 100, 1000 or only 29 pictures of us in the background of various photos, but I know we had fun.
I telling them that if someone complained they could pretend to be confused and I would say something about dementia and shrug my shoulders.
Never did get my father to participate, it wasn’t his thing but I wondered from time to time if he would have done so if his grandkids asked. I saw those children get away with stuff that he would have killed me for.
Sometimes he would kid around and say that if he knew being grandpa was going to be so much fun he would skipped being dad and gone right to it.
Make More Memories
Been digging into old photo albums looking for pictures of some of the older generations and have come across a bunch of stuff that covers my life and my siblings.
Though it didn’t fit my desire and goal I appreciated it because it reminds me of how very lucky I have been to have had a very rich life.
I have gotten to do so many things and though there is a long list of things I haven’t yet done I am grateful to say the memory banks are filled with a very large selection of experiences.
Sometimes we look back upon the last 20 some years and wonder what we did with it and whether we did it with the right people. There is nothing wrong with that but when you realize that you have reached an age at which 20 years is almost a third of your life you can look at it differently.
You can go farther and deeper and see a very broad swath and smile because there is quite a bit of life lived within that time.
And you can think about what it is you want to do with the next 20 some years and take action to start doing it. That is what I am doing.
Especially after having read so many of the tombstones at the cemetery today. There were so many people that died young.
So many who didn’t make it out of their forties and fifties or younger.
I am not ready to walk in the footsteps that lead to a more permanent visit with my father and grandfathers, got too much to do.
Too many people to hang out with, too many places to see and too many photo bombs yet to execute. 😉
Leave a Reply