Painting portraits with words .....
The truth is
I remember my grandfather
as a fine sepia print
blurred round the edges
an air of mystery shrouding him
man of few words
who seldom laughed or smiled
The truth is
my grandfather struggled
to let others inside
ruled his household
with an iron hand
worked his acreage
cloaked in a velvet glove
The truth is I saw in
my mother, her brothers and sisters
the very best of my grandfather
traits I admired most
my grandfather left his mark
on me, a lovely sepia golden hue
How wonderful, to see all his goodness living (and loving) on... That the loveliest of truths.
ReplyDeletevery nice...grandfathers leave memories all there own...bkm
ReplyDeleteHe reminds me of my father's paternal grandfather, who died before I was born. This particular great grandfather had been a Lieutenant in the Czar's Army. He and his brothers fled Russia with bullets flying at them as they jumped on the boat. According to my father, my great-grandfather was a no-nonsense sort of fellow, but he was also very compassionate. When he came to the United States, he set up a butcher shop. During the Depression, he gave people meat with the promise that they'd pay him back when they could. He said that every one of them did.
ReplyDeleteThat generation did rule strictly, each succeeding generation trying to nurture better. But those fine old qualities and strong character seem harder to find now than they were then.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a grandfather who led his family by the respect and reverence he deserved. My grandfather by the same but opposite of yours in that he was loud, cussed, chewed tobacco. But inside he was kind, loving, and generous. I still like to think that I was his favorite.
ReplyDeleteFYI, TMI, in my 1970 after being married for 13 years I was between marriages, back in school, working as an engineer 50-60 hours a week, and father of three sons, 13 (twins) and eight, and a daughter 11. I didn't date much and was definitely not looking for a wife though not all ladies understood this. Mrs. Jim and I met in a surprising way in August 1972 and married in February, now going on 47 years.
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Those strict grandfathers are of a past generation. No more ruling with an iron hand at home. My great grandfather was like that, but my maternal grandfather was gentle, fun-loving, told stories and sang songs. I don’t have sepia photos of him, mostly black and white and some colour. I like the emphasis in the repetition of ‘the truth is’ and the sepia print ‘blurred round the edges’, which conveys mystery and fading memories.
ReplyDeleteHe left his mark for sure. I too think "truth is" really helps to tell your story of him.
ReplyDeleteSounds so much like my own grandfather who fled from Russia as a young boy. He walked ramrod straight all of his 95 years. He was stern, spoke mostly Yiddish, but language didn’t matter, because you could feel the love. He raised my father and my aunt, the two sweetest, most giving people I will ever know. Thanks for this.
ReplyDeleteI feel the same about my grandfathers.... I feel sorry for that generation and all that hardness that was required.
ReplyDeleteOh, such a wonderful poem!! One wonders, what will be left, to be seen in others? I loved this poem.
ReplyDeleteDearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteHave to give you a big all around hug for this touching poem.
Your Grandfather sounds like both of mine and yes, with few words and leaving only mystery photos that are hard to read from the depth of their souls. But they did leave their marks and they do LIVE on in their offspring and next generations.
They endured the hardships of their era and did it with strength and with honor; without claiming anything for themselves. They understood very well the true meaning of LOVE!
May the selfish era learn from them! No selfies but deeds for THEIR Family.
Hugs,
Mariette
So beautiful, darling!
ReplyDeletexoxox,
CC