If you asked me what image would appear in my mind every time I thought about my Grandpa it would look something like this:
There he'd be across the table from me, in his kitchen, with those big Russian, Polish - Ukrainian pirogi ears. His leather bound watch on his left hand and he'd be fiddling around with his place setting. He had that clock radio to the left of him on a little shelf where he'd sing along to songs like "Brother, Can You Spare A Dime".
The music of the Great Depression is what he listened to. How the music touched him. I noticed that part. It was always so obvious to me that the music was such a big part of him. He played this concertina or otherwise known as a "squeeze-box" while he would hold a harmonica in his mouth with his teeth. I would sit there amazed. I was truly intrigued by his musical abilities because if you saw him you'd never think this guy was interested in music to the degree of where he could "make" it.
It makes sense to me more and more that he is the reason the music is in me. How I love music. How I love to make it. How I love to play it. How I love to listen to it. How it calms me. How it lifts me. How it breaks me. How it moves me to places that nothing else can.
Today it makes sense that he is the reason for music in my life because today that man, my Grandpa, passed away and for some reason it seems more evident to me now than ever before. He was the only Grandpa I had. I never knew my other Grandfather. But this one took care of that just fine. This one made me laugh. This one let me screw up and then gave me 20 bucks. This one made me laugh a lot. This one took me to my first movie theater experiences (King Kong - Jeff Bridges, Paradise Alley - Sylvester Stallone, Moonraker - Roger Moore). This one helped me buy my first car that leaked a quart of oil every 50 miles - but he didn't hold that against me he just helped me get it - he just let me make the mistake and still was my Grandpa with no strings attached and no "I told you so". This one let me try a cigarette when I was like 9. This one shared a beer with me in his car(while driving!). This one put me on his knee and would say "bumpety-bump-bumpety-bump". This one made me laugh.
There was this song that he whistled all the time. I mean all the time. It drove people nuts in his neighborhood because they heard it all the time. I heard it all the time and I find myself whistling it on occasion for absolutely no reason other than it grew into me because he shared it. Last year I asked him what song that was that he has been whistling for 60 years. This is what I loved about him. He looked at me and then sang it to me word for word as if he was talking to me. The song is called "Cathedral in the Pines". Just a simple song about a young couple getting married.
That's what I love though! That ability to share a song you love as if it's, without a doubt, a part of the conversation. I want to do that to my kids more and more. Just sing to them. Just give the music away.
He promised me that he'd give me that concertina when his time was nearing the end. Sure enough he sent it with my Dad to me a few months ago. It began to settle into me a little that my Grandpa was starting his goodbyes if you will.
Just three days ago I went to see him because he refused anymore preventative treatments and was ready to die at 91 years of age. I just held his face and he held mine. And I just told him how great of a Grandpa he was to me. He let me pray for him(which is a huge deal).
Then last night I stayed up and learned a couple of his favorite songs and sang them in my living room for quite a while.
There is this song by U2 that was written when Bono's Dad passed away. It's a father-son song for sure and there are so many parts to that song that ring true with my Grandpa. I just want to sing out from the depths of my heart to him those words that Bono bellows out:
"Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone...
It's you when I look in the mirror
It's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own...
...Can you hear me when I sing
You're the reason I sing..."
So, today I am sad. Today I hurt. But today I know the reason I sing more than I did yesterday.
I think I'm gonna drown myself in some U2 and Bing Crosby tonight for quite a while.
