Wednesday, December 07, 2005

The Eighth of December

It was on this day, twenty-five years ago that an unknown man, Mark David Chapman entered history as the man who killed John Lennon. I was merely five years old at the time, and the weight of this senseless murder was no doubt lost upon me. That would come years later after I started my musical education by digging through the Beatles' LP's my folks owned.

On this day, however, it's not John Lennon that I mourn but my own grandpa. He succumbed to kidney failure on this very same day, 1995. John Lennon never took me fishing, nor teach me the value of hard work. Lennon never comforted me when I was frightened as a boy. My Pa was an example of love and devotion to me, which is uncommon in this day and age, as he was married to my grandma for over 55 years. I have many fond memories of outings with him, and I still miss him, ten years after he's passed.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Fond memories of spending time with my grandparents and learning lessons from them are precious to me too. No one else can fill the void. I miss them and cherish those valuable memories..something money cannot buy nor modern games/ t.v. provide.
LP

luisa said...

wow.

i lost my grandmother the same year and have never really reconciled with it exactly.

ten years can seem like nothing.

i'm sorry for your loss.

bigshoulders said...

sorry for your loss as well, luisa.
time has a way of assuaging the pain, but that doesn't mean we can't miss them.

b.s.

outdoorexposure said...

that's a great shot from central park:-)
feel sorry about your grandpa. u lost him but the good memory still with u forever:-)
btw thanks for yr comments and visiting my blog:-)

bigshoulders said...

thanks o.e.
i can't claim title to that image (snagged if off the web i did) but it's striking in its simplicity. i hope to be posting more images in the near future...

b.s.

patina said...

sweet memorial. a gentle reminder of the bountiful gifts our elders bestow upon us.

bigshoulders said...

right about that, Patina. in the end, it's the relationships and the differences we've made that really count.

b.s.