Abuelo

Here's a random fact about me... I find it difficult to be the focus of attention. When I was little I was very shy, and to this day I'm naturally introverted. You know those old-fashioned cameras they used back in the day, where the fabric draped over the viewfinder so the photographer had to duck his head underneath to take the shot? I think, in many ways, my life has been like that.

I grew up behind the curtain of my camera.

From the time I first began taking photos when I was thirteen, I reveled in the little artistic haven I had created for myself. Only, what I didn't realize then is every work of art contains clues about its creator. And with every click of my camera shutter and every reveal, I shared (and share) part of who I am.


Today, I'm going to lift the curtain for a moment, to share with you one of my favorite photos. It's neither one I took, nor is it particularly artistic. But I do so love its contagious, joyful spirit.




This is my grandfather, Kenneth - a great man. A few years ago I was going through an old family photo album, and I found this picture. I had to snag it. I've treasured it since. On the back of the photo, my grandpa wrote in Spanish, "Mi abuelo es muy loco. Pero manso mansito." Roughly translated, it reads, "My grandfather is very crazy. But meek and mild."


Last week, my wonderful grandpa passed away. We lived 1200 miles apart, and the times I got to see him were rare and truly special. But I spoke with him on the phone, and we'd talk about everything and nothing. I'd tell him about my classes, and he'd tell me what he'd eaten for dinner. I'd ask him about his childhood, and he'd ask me what books I'd been reading lately. Often, he'd tell me a story from his time as a young actor in the theatre (and often, as his memory waned, he'd tell me the same story three times in a row). He shared many tales from his life with me as we talked; of bribing a guard into letting him climb the pyramids in Egypt when he was just a boy; of the simple, small-town life he lived in the Midwest in the 30s; and of the terrible, unforgettable day his older brother John, a pilot, was killed during World War II.

I've tried very hard to store all of these memories in my head, and in my heart, that I might never forget anything about my grandpa. But I know I never could. I find my grandfather every day, in the passions he passed on to me - in my love for theatre, words, storytelling, my family, and Jesus Christ.

I'm so grateful for you, my beautiful grandfather...

My crazy, meek, and mild abuelo.
My favorite Cyrano.




I love you, Grandpa. I hope you're enjoying heaven's great pyramids.

Love,

Sarah.