So. My arm is turning toward the crusty stage. In a couple of hours it will begin to itch and drive me mad. Luckily, In a couple of hours I will be at a wake and have tons of people touching me. That's truly one of the last things I want. I think I'm also afraid that if I go it will finally click in.
My Grandfather was a very proud man.. I realized today while driving, that his insistence of being perfectly poised and collected was passed on. Growing up, we always thought he was so cold and so perfect. Perfect shoes and perfect hair. He never cried in public, he never acted goofy. He seemed like he was stone, and anything could wash over him and leave him unchanged. He barely seemed human to a ten year old.
But now that I'm an adult, I realize that it wasn't perfection, it was pride. It was refusing to be anything less than what he thought was perfect. He was a very proud man and hated if people felt bad for him, or wanted to give him charity. He never wanted people to look down on him. I never really realized that this was passed on. I can see pieces of him in my relatives, and in myself. He taught my family to behave with confidence and poise, even when you're not feeling it. He taught us to say what we mean and never act cowardly or intimidated. He taught us to put everything we have into what we do, never just a part. Our actions are reflections of us, and when we do things poorly, it shows.
That hard exterior that I thought was was cold perfection as a child, I now think of as conviction, as inner strength, as will power, as confidence and as pride. I now know that my grandfather was human, he wasn't perfect... but he was a good man and I respected and loved him.
It's only after you lose someone that you really examine what they mean to you, and understand how they played a part in your life, shaping you into the person you are.
My Grandfather was a very proud man.. I realized today while driving, that his insistence of being perfectly poised and collected was passed on. Growing up, we always thought he was so cold and so perfect. Perfect shoes and perfect hair. He never cried in public, he never acted goofy. He seemed like he was stone, and anything could wash over him and leave him unchanged. He barely seemed human to a ten year old.
But now that I'm an adult, I realize that it wasn't perfection, it was pride. It was refusing to be anything less than what he thought was perfect. He was a very proud man and hated if people felt bad for him, or wanted to give him charity. He never wanted people to look down on him. I never really realized that this was passed on. I can see pieces of him in my relatives, and in myself. He taught my family to behave with confidence and poise, even when you're not feeling it. He taught us to say what we mean and never act cowardly or intimidated. He taught us to put everything we have into what we do, never just a part. Our actions are reflections of us, and when we do things poorly, it shows.
That hard exterior that I thought was was cold perfection as a child, I now think of as conviction, as inner strength, as will power, as confidence and as pride. I now know that my grandfather was human, he wasn't perfect... but he was a good man and I respected and loved him.
It's only after you lose someone that you really examine what they mean to you, and understand how they played a part in your life, shaping you into the person you are.
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I had a very similar grandfather that i've only ever known through stories and pictures of him.
I imagine and hear that he was a very similar man, the kind of person that inspires being a full and good person in others. I can only hope to live up to that ideal.
thanks for sharing