The last image I'll have of my grandfather is one of the sweetest anyone can hope for. He's standing in the window of his front door, waving goodbye to me as I drove off. I highly doubt I'm the only one with this image, as Emile Bedard was the sort of man who saw people off. He would stuff your stomach, make you take a to-go bag full of food and probably drop a few extra dollars in your pocket. Because if Emile Bedard couldn't be there to take care of you, he wanted to do all he could before you were gone. He was a caretaker, be it of his wife, his children, his grandchildren, his neighbors, his fellow soldiers or his beloved El Dorado. That's Spanish for gold, he told me once. Especially now, I am so thankful for the six weeks last year that he took care of me; when I stopped in Little Ferry on my extended road trip. I don't know what I'll do this time around in New Jersey, without him.
October 3, 1919 - February 16, 2009
3 comments:
I love you.
He was such a wonderful man. I'm very lucky to have been able to be a part of his life, even if it was for just one week.
It's the first time I've cried since coming back from NJ and it was reading your words and seeing the picture of the little red brick house that made me do so. Before we left, I went into almost every room, telling it, Emile's gone, Emile's gone. Don't let anyone tell you that that house is not missing him.
And my Dad...I didn't have him nearly long enough. I'm trying to take care of my elderly aunts now, writing and sending them his rosaries, but what'll I do with me after that's done? There's a hole. Never too old to be an orphan. Well, enough of that...I have one strong daughter and I love you so much and let's play wheelchairs in the airport again.
Post a Comment