My Grandfather told me a lot of things.
He told me I was beautiful and smart. I know there were times I didn’t believe him. But sometimes I did.
He told me I could do just about anything if I set my mind to it. So far, that has proved to be completely true.
My Grandfather told me that things aren’t important, but people are. He taught me to place value on the intangible things in life.
Occasionally, when I was being horrid, he told me that he loved me an awful lot, but at that particular moment, he didn’t really like me. Those words made me realize I should think more carefully about the person I wanted to be.
He told me he was disappointed in my behavior when the situation warranted. Nothing made me want to choose better the next time.
He told me I would only ever be about as miserable as I allowed myself to be. He also varied the statement, substituting words like happy, old, angry, or tired.
My Grandfather told me more than once to save my tears. “It’s OK to cry a little bit now,” he’d say, “but you’re going to need some of those tears when you’re older.”
He told me when I was making a huge mistake. Sometimes with words; sometimes by allowing me to figure it out for myself.
On the way down the aisle to meet my almost Fab Hub at the altar on our wedding day, My Grandfather told me to slow down and enjoy the walk. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the walk to the front of the church, specifically.
My Grandfather told me that my Fab Hub was a good man. He was right. I still can’t help thinking that it takes one to know one.
He told me my Grandmother was the most beautiful woman he ever knew. He was right about that, too. She was beautiful in many ways. And when he looked at her, there was no question that he thought so every single day.
He told me stories about things he did growing up, meeting my Grandmother, serving in World War II, being diagnosed with cancer and beating it. He taught me what it means to be a person of honor and dignity. He showed me how to be a person of strength.
My Grandfather told me a lot of things. I hope he knows I listened.
This post was previously published on The Meaning of Me and is republished here with permission from the author.
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