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exactly a year ago today, My grandfather passed away.
a friend of my cousin, wrote a poem from him. It was displayed at his funeral. It is called a The Man in a chair by, S. M. Tittermary. It went this picture of my Grandfather in his easy chair, taken by my cousin(whom is trained in photography):
I just thought I'd share the poem with you folks.
The Man in a Chair
Who is this man in a chair?
This man who sits with quiet confidence...with a solid, yet gentle presence
Soulful eyes that speak generations...
of youthful days gone but held tightly in memory...
of hard work...
of love and courtship...
of eras filled with fashions, phrases, music, philosophies, standards, inventions, wars, and miracles...which he and only a
precious few
can recall first hand
Who is this man in a chair?
The man who sits surrounded by belongings...fabrics and textures, metal and wood, function and art...
things bought, given, collected...some with memories attached that are his alone.
Who is this man in a chair?
He is father...grandfather...he has been son...husband...
This man in a chair who has loved and been loved...
and will always speak silent volumes through a captured essence...
through those soulful eyes...
through a simple picture of this man in a chair...
S. M. Tittermary
Grandpop, I will always remember you and love you and miss you. But I know you are in a better place, in heaven with Grandmom.
Love,
The Warbler
