In my grandfather’s footsteps.

I was indirectly called a bastard by one of my friends some years ago, and I gladly accepted it. Since it was unintentional, I had no reason to get angry. I wasn’t angry because I know for real who my parents are, just that I resembled none of them at that time.

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How did it happen? He requested to see my parents’ pictures so he would know who I really resembled but was disappointed when he couldn’t see any resemblance. Then he asked, “are you a bastard?” Well, I’m not. I know who I resemble, and it’s my grandpa but where is the evidence? It’s only available in pictures.

When my uncles would see me and scream, “how come you resemble grandpa?”, I see myself grinning from ear to ear because it is a good thing to look like one of those people that I cherished my whole life. It’s been more than ten years since grandpa died, but his legacy lives on.

Many times, when I returned from school, my first point of contact was him. He would always have goodies and then would sit me down and tell me stories that would have morals embedded in them. He would tell me the best way to live and the way not to live. On some days, when my friends would come over to play, he would sit us all down, give us goodies, and then start with the stories, and advice.

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My grandpa was a very kind man. His kindness was strong to the core. He hated seeing people hungry but wouldn’t condone laziness. As much as he gave, he wouldn’t let lazy people have a smell of food until they complete a particular task. However, he rewarded them more than they expected.

When I knew my grandpa, he was already an old man, however, I wondered how his youthful days would’ve been because even in his old age, he wouldn’t condone rubbish from anyone. When he talked, he commanded respect. I remember many people coming with their issues for resolve. I used to call his sitting room a mini court because every day, there was either a couple trying to settle scores, or a family undergoing a terrible dispute, or even the town going through crisis. He was one of the wisest men in our village (now town).

As much as there were traditions in our village, my grandpa used to get first-hand information before anything happened. Why? They know that if any of his children or grandchildren fall victim of their traditional rites, my grandpa would go all out, and it would get messy. He was highly protective of his family.

I remember one occasion when one of my uncles nearly got his arm severed by a masquerade on one of those nights of their traditional rites. My grandpa smiled and sipped a cup of water. By the next morning, the perpetrator was at our house begging grandpa that it was a mistake. My grandpa was not a violent man, he was just a highly respected man within the community.

Before his demise, my grandpa did one last thing that is still with us today. He united our family such that I know how large my extended family is. I have many cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews and nieces and I know when a newborn is added to the family. The sense of family in my grandpa did that.

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My grandpa taught me about life before I knew how life would be. He prepared me for life, taught me how to earn myself some respect and give to others what I would like to receive, control my anger so I won’t alter words I couldn’t take back, be kind, prayerful, and use my youthful days wisely. My grandpa prepared me for the life of this world even before I took the step to move into the world. So, I am using this opportunity to celebrate one of the best men in my life.

This is my entry to InLeo prompt for the month of July.
All images are mine.

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