My Grandfather

My Grandfather died last December and I have tried to write about him ever since but nothing has felt quite right. He was by no means a perfect man, husband or father…but he was my friend. It was never in my place to hold against or forgive him for sins not committed against me.
He often delighted in our similarities, our careers in hospitality, our love for old music but I believe that the real pride lay in our differences. I learned that sometimes it is not best to follow your family’s footsteps exactly but to skip a few and maybe find a better route along the way.
I know from his stories that he made mistakes in his life, many of which he likely regretted earlier than he had ever told me about them. He called more often near the end of his time and the phone calls started to feel more like confessions than conversations. He is gone now, but I want him to know that I heard him, I always heard him and he had never done wrong by me and was always a light and inspiration in my life.
This summer we will spread his ashes into the ocean and I will be able to think of him everytime I hear the breaking of the waves or see the sunset reflecting off the water. Rest well friend.
-The Ink & Salt Club-

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