My father and my grandchildren

My father died too young.

He was a good man. He was kind and gentle and he loved his family. He loved nature and he loved beauty. He had a pleasant demeanor and everyone he met liked him. He had artistic gifts and was able to draw, paint, sculpt, build furniture, and take amazing photographs. Above all, he was my father.

He lived to see all 5 of his grandchildren. He got a tremendous amount of pleasure from spending time with them and learning of their achievements. I remember the day my oldest son went with him to a Radio Shack and he showed my father what he could make the TRS80 do. My father was completely stunned and amazed. Whenever we visited, he would tell me the same thing as I left: “Drive carefully; you have precious cargo.” He would tell me, “You are rich; you have 5 million dollars.”

As we all do, when happy times come, I think about my father and how I would have wanted him to be with us. Sometimes, though, I get a very clear picture of how it would be. For example, on Yom HaAtzmaut.

He would see and talk to each of my grandchildren. I can see his face beaming as one after the other was a delight for him to meet and get to know. I can see him laughing and joking with them. I can see him looking up in the trees at my little monkeys who have climbed them and shaking his finger and saying “Get down now, boys!” with a big smile on his face. I see him watching the little girls walking to and fro and enjoying the babies and then I see him talking to the children and telling them he wanted to take them up to Titora Hill to take some pictures of them, knowing all along that he would be pointing out the birds and the flowers along the way. I hear him calling them, “Come along, kinderlach!” and I see them happily skipping away after him.

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Comments

  1. I can picture some of what you said with your dad. He had very kind eyes!

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