it's a poem i wrote about my grandfather after he died. reading it brought back such a blinding flash of memories that i felt i needed to write about it.
even as a granddaughter - a young one - i knew he wasn't perfect... but his life is such an example to me and so many people. there are so many things that i subconsciously strive to be which are really because of what i saw in him. i want to be more purposeful, more determined to know God, more creative, more rational, learn more, do more... examples he set for me.
i spent 4 years of college living near my grandparents - they were almost like parents; my own parents were so far away. they were so patient with me! i don't think he was happy when i (surprise!) bought a random old car for $800 while away working at summer camp, but he never said anything. just gave me the phone number for his insurance broker.
many of the jobs i've landed over the years have been because of him. my senior year he said, "what are you going to do with your life?" he had me write a 10-year dream and a resume and he sent it to all his friends and old colleagues. that's how i got my first job.
a little over 10 years later, i'm not far off that "dream." of course, what i wrote was career-oriented. i saw myself as a relief worker in some war-torn or troubled country. in the 10 years since i graduated, i've worked in 6 countries recovering from (or still struggling with) war and the poverty that comes with it. we may still go back after mathias finishes school.
i know he would be proud of me and my small family. i wish he could have known mathias. and dominic.
here is the poem i wrote back in 2002.
Portrait of a Patriarch
Ah, yes, my grandfather says, pulchritude--
there's a word you don't hear anymore.
Pulchritude: that quality of appearance which pleases the eye;
Beauty, comeliness, grace, loveliness.
Also: attractive moral excellence, moral beauty.
How do we remember the sea when it has evaporated? How do
we discern a wind that is now at rest? How do we memorize
the beauty of the one who has left?
The world remembers a pioneer, famous strategist and
man of excellence--
I remember driving lessons, Oreos with milk, "Grandpa's Hotel."
I remember controlled anger and passionate love. I remember
the twinkling of his eye at the memory of an old story, at a puzzle solved.
An artist: writer, carver, designer, dollhouse-builder. I remember
beauty.
This passage, this mile-marker, this wrenching good-bye
is lined with grace, a loveliness that is a reflection of heaven.
I stand on the edge of a vast plain and as far as my eye can see,
it is populated with a multitude, a multitude
of people languages, cultures. They stand upon the expanse
of a life lived in submission to God, they stand and they weep--
they weep because this wind, this sea has gone from this place.
They stand and they laugh, they celebrate because Ed Dayton
has crossed the finish line, climbed the final peak
and stepped into the embrace of his Savior.
His thumbprint remains etched upon the geography of this world
and his life is an exhortation to run, run as if in a race, run with purpose.
Rejoice, Grandfather, rejoice.
Rejoice in the arms of your Father and know
that we will
carry on.
