Still Missing Him
My Grandfather was a strong man. A proud man. The type of man you would have seen standing tall for a picture in the old days. He came from Europe to Canada and found work as a furniture re-finisher while my grandmother sewed for a living. He couldn't speak English when he came here but learned enough to get by. I was always impressed by him as a child as he somehow seemed larger than life. When he sat at the head of the massive table that we used to eat dinner at he was an imposing presence for sure. I always remembered him finding the time to play with us kids in between card games with his buddies and always had time for me to sit on his lap. He always made me feel I was special to him. He used to carry a big gold pocket watch and I used to always ask him to see it and to listen to it ticking. In the summer we would go raspberry picking near the cottage where they spent their summers. Sadly, he was taken way too early from us in a traffic accident. I wasn't anywhere near done learning from this wonderful man. I still miss him on many occasions. Lately I have been able to return to Montreal where I was born and have visited his and my grandmothers grave site. It was almost as if time hadn't passed. I was crying all over again. I think it was good for me and is a fitting testament to just how much influence this wonderful man had on my life.
I miss you Nagyapa. Always.