I always had a
difficult time communicating with him, despite this bond we shared. I think it
was his strength. He was a strong man who valued a strong work ethic. He fixed
things properly and did not take a band-aid approach. He critiqued my bedroom
when I decided to paint it for the very first time…he wasn’t easy to please,
but, with his comments, I wasn’t belittled or hurt. I was able to grow and do a
better job for the next time. Perhaps, I was intimidated by him and that’s why
I couldn’t communicate better? Could it have been the fact that I didn’t know
how to respond to him? I’m not sure.
I didn’t get my
strength from him, however. My grandma raised me to be strong and be my own
person. I cannot deny her that fact. No, I was not a strong person due to my
grandpa. I was a compassionate person, because of him. You can have all the
strength in the world, but, without compassion, life can become very tiresome
and rough. Compassion is what makes us human. We acknowledge and seek to
alleviate others suffering. To be compassionate is to have enough strength
within us to share with others. We teach others how to be strong and how to
share the wealth of strength within us. We give in the hopes that they will
share what has been given. We teach so that they will learn and educate others
along the way. He taught me what compassion is about.
I have his lessons to rely on and
memories to hold close to my heart. Yet, I still feel alone amongst the family
members. I have lost my ally and that is a difficult concept to grasp.
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