81

This month we celebrate my grandpa Hamm's 81st birthday. Grandpa Hamm the fisherman, the mechanic, the husband, father...the stubborn. At 81 years old he's almost exactly twice my age. I simultaneously fear and stand in awe of anyone that has managed to live that long. The multitude of lives he must have lived. The faces of friends and family that have crossed his path and then faded away just as quickly.  I stay awake at night frightened that tragedy will strike me in the coming hours. I pray for God to keep my children and my wife safe...to save me from the horrors others around me have endured.

I love my grandfather dearly but I must admit I've taken advantage of him and for that I feel guilty. Like a library shelf filled with books of all shapes and sizes, covering everything from religion to auto repair, I feel like I have a tendancy to pull people out of the stacks only to put them back on the shelf once I've gotten what I want from them. My guilt is only eased by the thought that such is life; people come and go each with their own purpose and then head back down their own path.  I remember friends from college, best friends I thought would be in my life forever only to have them disappear right before my eyes. A day turns into a month into a year and soon into a lifetime. We are in constant motion and at 81 years of age even my over active imagination can not fathom how many people my grandfather has met. I try not to think of what my life will look like should I make it that far.

He lost his wife last May. Almost 61 years to the day they joined hands in marriage and made promises that lasted a life time. Slowly she slipped away into peaceful slumber, him by her side every heartbeat of the way. I watched from a distance. Scared of what I might see should I get too close. The feeling of something way to heavy for me to handle keeping me at arms length. I talk to my wife all through the day and at times in my sleep at night. I can't imagine not being able to hear her speak back. Not to feel the breathe come from her lips. Feet grazing each other while fast asleep tucked safely in our bed. 

I suspect that at 81 distractions become merely that. Movies, books, television...who has time for those things when there are hummingbirds to be watched, flowers to see bloom, grand and great-grandchildren to soak up. Recently he's started going back to church. When a man like Clovis Hamm walks down that isle, a man with hands like tree trunks and a heart just as big, people take notice. It sets an example when a man everyone leans on humbles himself before The Lord. What grandchild doesn't want to see their pawpaw waiting for them in Heaven someday?

A thousand pictures cover the house. A homage to the lives that sprung from it. He built it with his own hands, my grandfather did. Once upon a time it housed a wife, a husband, and four girls. Now it sits half empty, a temple filled with precious artifacts. He walks its halls like a security guard forever keeping it safe and intact. 

When we look at him we see love. We see each other...and although she's no longer visibly by his side, we also see his forever bride.