This baffles me because he is such a craftsman. The education that he did excel in was not in a classroom. It isn't listed on a transcript in a data warehouse that I can admire. He doesn't have certifications hung on his walls, highlighting any curriculum that vetted his knowledge against other men. And I don't know my grandpa as anything other than capable. This is different than smart.
Grandpa, I want to be like you, and if not being smart is part of that then I will find a way to just be capable. I want to learn how to come from my day of work and build. I likely won't build cabinets from scratch but I will create. It may be a poem, a story, or a reflection. I hope I can be a learner like you.
Grandpa you didn't get it right, rather you got it well! I hope you can feel on your new cosmic journey that there was never a smart way and you surely didn't have to avoid the wrong way so strongly. I hope you see in the heavens that how you lived was valuable and worthy of praise. The love so many have for you, should help you see that the lessons you mastered are accredited by the ethos.
At times it appeared hard to tell that you cared, were pleased, approved, or were impressed. I needed more smiles that came naturally, and didn't have to wait for libations. I hope to learn to be sweet without the reliance of beer or two. I hope to soften my feedback, because it hurt to hear your doubt come through in your praise. And I remember how much it hurt hearing you doubt yourself, so I hope I can find a way to build confidence with the modesty I admired from you.
How come you describe yourself as falling short? I miss you, sitting down under a roof you built, reaching for a salt shaker from a cabinet you fashioned, pouring frijoles into a bowl grandma crafted, scooping chili from pan older than me resourcefully maintained. You are quality. Who taught you to hold yourself down?
