Seeing Things...

I wish I had a photo of my Grandfather to post here, in fact, I'm embarrassed that I haven't a single photo of him in my house. I don't know why? Maybe it's because I've spent the better part of my life being pretty damn selfish? Maybe not. All I know is that the man deserves a photograph. Sometimes I forget what he looks like.

My brother, Brad, can't forget something so important, not when every few years he sees him. That's right, I said sees him, as in ghost...as in tonight. He just called, a little worked up, and told us the story about how he was checking on our Mother's house while she was away, and here with us and Zo, and saw him, as clear as anything, just standing there where his garage used to be...where my brother's old wooden boat rests on saw horses, waiting to be patched up and fixed. He was inspecting the damage when my brother spied him on his way up the drive. He was standing there in his usual garb, and looked up to see my brother, at which point he turned and walked away...walked behind the shed that sits where his beloved garage once did. Brad followed him but found nothing. Strange...

It's odd that my brother Brad has seen him so frequently. My mother has seen him, my Aunt...I have too, although just once, but Brad has been in his presence no less than three or four times. Very strange...He won't forget the look of my Grandfather any time soon. I, however, might require a photo to stare at and wonder what he might have thought of my life.

Yes, I think I'll be asking my father to find me a photograph. It would mean a lot to me, but maybe it might mean a lot to him too.