My Dear Grampa

by Linda McDonald

My dear grampa —

I can hear him now, playing his organ. Or better yet, playing a recorded tape of his music. He could “play for an hour” you know from memory! Oftentimes I hear a song that is one of Grampa’s old songs, but I have no idea what the title of it is. Love for music is one of the gifts he gave me…each of us. The sheer pleasure his music gave him flowed from his heart to his fingers.

So many gifts he gave us in his quiet stern manner. Lawrence Welk…Salted Nut Rolls…combines…fields of golden wheat…a sense of thriftiness…honesty…integrity…Christian faith.

His love for my gramma has always been a sight to behold. The loving bantering between them has gone on as long as I can remember. Yet the love between them was always strongly felt. It helped me to keep believing in love.

We all miss you, Gramps. I know God has an organ reserved for you, and I’ll be listening for one of your old songs when I join you.