A Window To My Past

It is astonishing how a simple photograph can transport one back to the exact moment it was captured.
My mother gave to me an old photograph that was taken of my late grandfather and I sitting together outside on the porch swing. He is seen with his face turned to the side, looking at and smiling at me. I sit there, 6 years old roughly,leaning forward slightly with my hand on my leg... smiling.
The photograph is an old black and white snapshot....my grandfather's face...slightly fading from wear and the passing of time. But in my mind, I can see him as clearly as if he were sitting next to me here today.
I wonder what he was thinking to himself that brought his smile in my direction that day. Maybe my child like innocence at that age? Who know's really.
His face may be fading slightly in the photograph...but his face will never fade my memory.

He made his living being a waterman. The oldest boy of 13 kids from a now obscure island off the coast of The Eastern Shore of Virginia known as HOGG ISLAND. He quit school when he was 11 years old due to the passing of his father. Being the oldest he assumed the role of provider for his family.
Lying about his age...he joined the army when he was 17 years old. Becoming a cook and sending money back home each pay day to his mother, brother's and sister's.
He met his first wife, Elizabeth at an Armory dance. They soon wed and had three children. Two girls, my mothers older sisters and a son. A son he would never see grow. Elizabeth passed away with child during child birth due to kidney failure. She was 26 years old. Elizabeth and child rest now rest next to my grandmother in the cemetary.

I remember as a kid, one stormy summer evening. My grandfather had gone to work on the water and he hadn't returned. I sat on the porch waiting to see him walk up the dirt road. My grandmother ventured to the porch and found me crying...staring out the window....fearing the worst. It is the first time i ever remembered praying.

"Dear Lord.....Please let my grand daddy be ok....I love him very much...I promise that if you let him come back home...I will be a good ....I wont even fight this sunday when its time to go to church.....In Jesus name....Amen."

My grandfather walked up that old dirt road a bit later....and when he came inside, I hugged him. He patted me on my head and assured me that "no storm would ever stop him from getting back home to me,my aunt and my grandma."
That evening we sat together in the family room, me on his lap watching The Muppett's Variety Show........I fell asleep in his arms.
I can still smell him. His shirt smelling of Musk, WINSTON cigarrettes and sea salt.....and sometimes...if I listen very closely.....I can hear him....assuring me that I will always be safe....and ok.

I sit here now feeling rather silly. I often complain and beat myself up because of various situations and events that I have encountered and expierenced in my life.
They feel minimal when placed next to him. A child who had to let go of his childhood at such a young age to support his family. A man...who was unable to finish school and live out his true dream. A man....who lost not only a wife...but a child in a moment that should have been joyous. A man...who once again assumed yet another role in life when I arrived....that of a father....A man who never once do I EVER remember hear complaining about his life and how it turned out....A man who eventually had to bury not one but two wives.......so why should it be my life....and my story that is desired to be printed???

When my grandfather was passing away in the hospitol, I remember one day I went into work early at the hospitol to check in on him. I found him in his hospitol bed. Sleeping and soiled.
Without a word....without hesitation... I went and got all the stuff I would need to clean him.
It was my turn....to take care of him.