Hey everyone.
I wanted to take some time to write about my grandfather, who recently lost his battle with lung cancer. I feel like I need to put my thoughts into words, in lieu of speaking at the ceremony, now that things have calmed down a little bit.
My grandfather was an incredible man. He was boisterous and quiet, ferocious and gentle, strong and sensitive, all at once. He was a fearsome friend, and gave his friendship freely. He had a profound dignity to him, earned through years of experience, years of doing things. All sorts of crazy things. Those things which he did not do himself, he read about. And he told the most amazing stories about the places he had been throughout his life. He and I always had very different interests, save a few things. He taught me to shoot, and we always enjoyed our time together at the range. I think he was very curious, like I am, even if he was curious about different things. When he could no longer walk very well, we started watching Westerns together, which I had always wanted to get into.
As we watched those outlaw heroes of old together, I began to realize just how much my grandfather was like them. He had the quiet finesse of Blondie, the Good, he had the driving devotion to fairness of Django (pre-Unchained), and he had the mischievous style of Yojimbo’s ronin (Kurosawa movies totally count, as they influenced many Westerns!). These characters are flawed, certainly, but all the best humans are. The trick is to learn what these flaws are and let your strengths outshine them.
I feel at once like the luckiest and the unluckiest person alive. I am so grateful to have known the man that my grandfather was, but so hurt that I must be without him now. To carry him with me, I will follow his lessons. Chief of all is this: love fiercely, and with your whole heart, and with just a little luck, you’ll get that love in return. And then some.
Thanks for reading,
Andrew
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