You licked his face? Eeeeeh … Great imagery there, though. My tongue prickled. Of course, much like others here, I was reminded of my grandfather, who swore a lot, smoked three packs a day, and always smelled of booze. A big teddy bear, though.
It was a good piece, Terry. You gently put me into each scene and gave just enough details to paint a picture. Perhaps you could take more risks like this?
Terry, these were lovely memories. thank you for sharing them. I'm gratified you took a risk to share beautiful moments and the same wishes many of us share.
I'm so glad you took the risk, Terry, by sharing so artfully the love and complicity between you and your grandfather. I have the images of your grandfather's stick-like stubble and you licking his face before creatively winning at dominoes!! It's such a tender and nostalgic piece, I would love to read more. I know we have to celebrate what we have had, but it's difficult not to wish it could have lasted longer, especially when there was such love.
Beautiful piece, Terry. It brought back memories of my paternal grandfather and the time spent with him and lessons learned from him. Personal pieces are difficult but you did a lovely job of it.
THIS is what I love about Substack. Every writer that I value lets their walls down and speaks to us from their heart. This is special, really special, to me. I too remember my grandfather’s eternal bristles. I too remember the lessons he taught me. I too was young when he died. Beautifully told dear Terry. Thank you SO much. Sending heaps of hugs and best wishes. 🤗🤗😘😘🌼🌼
We were lucky to have had our grandfather till we were adults. He taught us a version of Rummy (the card game) which we have resurrected and taught it to all our grandchildren. We remember him so fondly - my hope is that my grandchildren write about me the way you’ve written about your grandfather.
Grandpas, or Opas, in Dutch, and memories of them are some of the best. Small child memories are powerful and can mold a piece of one's heart and a place in one's head. I love the stubble vignette. I have only 1 memory of my mum's dad, and that is sitting next to him on the "itchy chair" in my childhood home, a moment frozen in my time. I can feel his warmth, and comfort, and he seemed gigantic. I loved this post - thank you for sharing it.
I loved these little pieces from your life Terry. It was very sweetly set down. I would like to hear more. I admire grandfather's way of winning at dominoes. I wasn't aware you were allowed to draw more than one piece. I will give it a try next time and see if my family notices.
You're fortunate. My paternal granddad died when I was a kid, & even then he was drifting away after a massive stroke I barely remember him.
My maternal granddad died in 1974. Writer, reporter, editor. One of those who seemed to have been everywhere & done damn near EVERYTHING. I would've loved to have spent 5 - 10 minutes, maybe more, in his life.
I wish to got your mean correct.
I liked it and want to read more of these.
You licked his face? Eeeeeh … Great imagery there, though. My tongue prickled. Of course, much like others here, I was reminded of my grandfather, who swore a lot, smoked three packs a day, and always smelled of booze. A big teddy bear, though.
It was a good piece, Terry. You gently put me into each scene and gave just enough details to paint a picture. Perhaps you could take more risks like this?
I’m so glad you got the chance to know your grandfather. I love the stories you shared!
My paternal grandmother was like a second mother to me and I strive to be as kind as she was.
Terry, these were lovely memories. thank you for sharing them. I'm gratified you took a risk to share beautiful moments and the same wishes many of us share.
This little risk you took has no downside. It is a lovely intimate nicely composed story.
I'm so glad you took the risk, Terry, by sharing so artfully the love and complicity between you and your grandfather. I have the images of your grandfather's stick-like stubble and you licking his face before creatively winning at dominoes!! It's such a tender and nostalgic piece, I would love to read more. I know we have to celebrate what we have had, but it's difficult not to wish it could have lasted longer, especially when there was such love.
Lovely snippet. So clever to name granddad’s stubble, sticks. My favorite gpa died when I was five. He left an impression I will never forget. 🙏
Beautiful piece, Terry. It brought back memories of my paternal grandfather and the time spent with him and lessons learned from him. Personal pieces are difficult but you did a lovely job of it.
THIS is what I love about Substack. Every writer that I value lets their walls down and speaks to us from their heart. This is special, really special, to me. I too remember my grandfather’s eternal bristles. I too remember the lessons he taught me. I too was young when he died. Beautifully told dear Terry. Thank you SO much. Sending heaps of hugs and best wishes. 🤗🤗😘😘🌼🌼
Oh Terry, this is absolutely beautiful. Your epilogue gave me goosepimples - bravo, friend. 🙌
We were lucky to have had our grandfather till we were adults. He taught us a version of Rummy (the card game) which we have resurrected and taught it to all our grandchildren. We remember him so fondly - my hope is that my grandchildren write about me the way you’ve written about your grandfather.
Grandpas, or Opas, in Dutch, and memories of them are some of the best. Small child memories are powerful and can mold a piece of one's heart and a place in one's head. I love the stubble vignette. I have only 1 memory of my mum's dad, and that is sitting next to him on the "itchy chair" in my childhood home, a moment frozen in my time. I can feel his warmth, and comfort, and he seemed gigantic. I loved this post - thank you for sharing it.
I loved these little pieces from your life Terry. It was very sweetly set down. I would like to hear more. I admire grandfather's way of winning at dominoes. I wasn't aware you were allowed to draw more than one piece. I will give it a try next time and see if my family notices.
You're fortunate. My paternal granddad died when I was a kid, & even then he was drifting away after a massive stroke I barely remember him.
My maternal granddad died in 1974. Writer, reporter, editor. One of those who seemed to have been everywhere & done damn near EVERYTHING. I would've loved to have spent 5 - 10 minutes, maybe more, in his life.
This sparseness bleeds both joy and pain. These little moments mean so much.