“Papa was a good man,” said Grandmother, taking a pinch of snuff and placing it between lip and gum. Her voice was clear and concise, her eyes sad and misty as she talked about him. “No one could ever fill his shoes nor take his place in my heart. They wouldn’t no man fit to wipe his Boots,” she said with a huff.
You set the bar high, Grandmother; so high that you never found true happiness…
Pioneer life was hard, especially caring for younger siblings, trying to replace your mother that died -- you were barely past a child yourself.
At age twenty-two, you settled, not wanting to be an old maid or maybe it was to get out from beneath all the hard work or maybe it was because the brothers and sisters you …show more content…
You took to your bed and mourned his departure from your life. No longer would you have his comforting presence… I did much the same thing when you passed. When your soul departed this earth, I truly felt that I would perish from a broken heart.
Family History was important to you; you knew where you come from and in doing so, you expressed the importance of family to me, your fifth born granddaughter.
As a young child, I asked who they were, these ancestors you spoke of; I begged stories of them. You looked to me, and then passed the honor of keeping their stories alive and their names, sacred. With tethered heart, I have done so.
You told me your mother and father’s names, who they were, what they were like in life, and you told me granddaddy’s name and grandmother’s names and likewise, their father and mother’s names and so on, as far back as you knew; and, when I questioned you about what they were like in life, you told me truthfully. You told me what you knew about each of …show more content…
There is a rock where he once stood staring across the water toward home. His spirit still stands staring out to sea, his eyes trained on where he imagines his home to be. I near him and sit down; he turns to me. There is a familiarity about me; he immediately feels a connection. Something in my eyes, tell him that I am one of his great-great-grandchildren. He wonders of his wife and children. I am able to tell him about each of them and of how I came to be. We have a wonderful conversation about his mother and father, his siblings and his childhood. He smiles at me and thanks me for seeking him out, we embrace. I cling to him for those that were denied his presence in their lives. He tells me that I must let him go; his spirit is at rest. Now that he has talked with me he can go to be with his wife and children, they await him in the