~A Eulogy for Grandpa~

Once a long time ago, I was a wealthy little girl. I had a pocket full of nickels and each one represented a tomato worm, a worm that I'd fed to the chickens not long after grandpa paid me five cents each. I thought the dance the chickens did to win them over was well worth the time it took to pluck each from the growing plants, but I was soon convinced my wealth could be sought in a much easier way. So I buried the few I had left and waited for them to grow just as grandpas tomatoes did and I prayed for bundles. Needless to say, my tomato worm plants never did grow and after a quick trip to the candy store, my wealth was short lived.

I think that many people measure their wealth just as I did as a six year old, by counting their nickels in their pockets and failing to see that the measure of true wealth is found in your character, the love others have for you, the memories that you hold dear and the memories you make for others. This is what made my grandpa a very wealthy man.
Grandpa was a man steady as an Oak who kept a farm that stood still in time for my brother and I, a place that we knew at the beginning of each summer would be as it had always been even as our lives in the outside world were painfully changing. It was because of this steadiness that my brother and I have roots.

Grandpa was also a memory maker, an animal charmer, a hard worker, a character, and the inventor of funny words like the "Girl Catcher", a hair style my brother was fond of wearing and a term I use today in my own house although my boys insist they aren't quite into catching girls yet. Grandpa was the keeper of cows and chickens and cars in need of repair or paint. He was a grand gardener, a tenacious rose pruner and at one time, an avid coffee drinker who often smelled like a wonderful mix morning pancakes, coffee and oil.

Grandpa is man I can still see sitting on the front porch with his dog Blue, daydreaming in his chair with one leg crossed at the knee. His thoughts are the thoughts of a farmerhis family, the weather and his animals. His boots are brown and never change, they rest below denim jeans supported by a belt he wears off to the side. Grandpa's hair is graying and his skin is creased; it is the color of warm coco like his eyes, like my mother's eyes, like mine. He calls me sis. I, the little girl with tomato worms in my pocket, have the wonderful memories and the great love of my grandfather, and it is for these things that I am a very wealthy girl.

Learn more about this author, Heather Domnick.
Click here to send author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Lessons in life?
We want to hear your view. Write now!