Ode to Grandpa...

My grandfather passed away recently...and I was inspired to write this for him. Had to share...

Grandpa

There was always something about his voice
The tone of it
The way he’d say “hello sweetheart”
That had the slick, smooth tenor
Of old Hollywood - the lost rat pack-er
The suave California boy with the sly smile

That voice never changed
Even close to the end
Comforting

It somehow never made Grandpa seem old

But somehow the body grows old
Despite the mind or the spirit
Or the smooth resonance of a familiar voice

You remember other things
A different Jack and Bobby
Kennedy, no relation
How you get Jack from Dwight Edward
I never quite knew
A cook
His bread and his chili
His mind
His memory for details
His war stories,
His matter-of-fact way
A hobby
Bowling
A home
Cali,
Nampa,
Vegas
A preference for blondes
One in particular.

More than a voice
Even if that’s how I remember.

Goodbye Grandpa Jack.So long, farewell, and my love always.