My grandfather passed away recently...and I was inspired to write this for him. Had to share...
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
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
His bread and his chili
His memory for details
His war stories,
His matter-of-fact way
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.