Last weekend was a beautiful testament to a great man. I am humbled by how many lives my grandpa's life touched. His service and the weekend spent with family was exactly what he wanted. Below is what I wrote for my grandpa. He had the opportunity to have it read to him almost two months ago. It was important to me, and, I'm sure to him, that he heard it before he left this world. I read it aloud at his service on Saturday.
The Knot
I was young enough to not remember exactly when you taught
me. But I was old enough to still be able to picture your hands confidently
working the line in twists and loops. It is your hands I am fixated on. They
look a good kind of worn, like a man’s hands should be, used and aged, but
strong and capable. They are a work of art as you tie a knot you have tied so
many times. Your attention to detail and your serious tone convey the
importance of this lesson. I follow along and tie the knot a few times myself.
The first time the knot does not take, but eventually, it holds true and
strong.
The significance of this lesson did not fully register with
me until some twenty years later when my father-in-law took me fishing. I
hadn’t fished in a long time and I was worried that when we arrived at the
shores of the Flaming Gorge Reservoir I would have to ask my father-in-law to
tie the fishing knot. And he would have, without comment, because he is a
gentleman, but a twenty-eight year old man should not have to ask for such
things, whether he regularly fishes or not. So, I didn’t.
I took the fishing rod and reel he handed me along with a few
lures down to the shore. Silently standing there, with the water lapping at the
rocks, I threaded the line up through the tip of the rod and started the knot.
My fingers moved like I had fished every day of my life since you first taught
me all those years ago and the knot held fast as I checked its strength.
In minutes I was fishing the Gorge with a great man, but I
was thinking of you. You, who knew that, whether I would fish every weekend of
my life or just once a year, to tie a fishing knot was a necessary skill to
have. And I knew it then, in a funny way, but clearer than ever, that I had
passed a great test of manhood simply by tying a knot, by feeling capable, even
for a fleeting moment. And that as important as teaching me how to tie a knot
was, it was more important to teach me so that I might someday know how to
teach my son or daughter so that they would learn from me as well as I have
learned from you and, selfishly, that I might be remembered, as I remember you
now.
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