Ali Marsman

Book II: Because of Grandfather

    

     Reading what my Grandfather has left me helps me to understand the meaning of my Father, who was so intelligent in His knowledge.

 

     My love for the apple tree I played under, and continue too, has been enjoyed by my family for as long as I can remember; giving the same memories to my own children.  My fondness for apples and using the recipes my Grandfather made for my Father, are used for my Son and daughter and partner.  I want to be the same Father He was, and He was for Him, teach everything I know the same way as them, with my own creative talent added; for they encouraged it!

 

     Working side-by-side in the kitchen with them, and even though it has been so long since Grandfather's passing, I remember our time together as if it were yesterday.  With my Father passing yesteryear, I wanted to start my memoirs of them, and leave them for my Son and daughter to keep the tradition of our family continued.

 

         My Father became one for the first time later in His life, so I am quite young to have Him gone.  His golden birthday; I was born the same day, and it was not even planned that way; how merry of my start He was!  I was His pride, His joy, His beautiful Boy, and He made sure I knew that throughout my life.

 

         Throughout my life He treated my mom with uppermost respect, which taught me how to love as deeply as they showed me it could go.  Sat on the lake and the field together where He taught me just about everything I know; read poems to me, about me, every birthday since I was born, which He later played to music … I listen to those particular ones yearly now.  On the very same piano He played upon, I sing at the same spot, my children enjoy listening to what I write to them on the day of their birth, and for no particular occasion, doing as my Father did for me.

 

         I always think about Him.  It was because of my Grandfather, my Father made me to be such a caring Father, so many stories to recall later while growing with my Son and daughter.  Ones to begin with from family traditions past down to keep us going, I miss Him so much but I keep going.  My own children look to me the same, my partner loves me the same way as I felt as I was becoming who I am, and could be, and plan to be until my time ends.

 

         I was born on the same day as my Father was, I don't remember what I was yelling about, but I was crying my eyes out . . . until my Father held me.  He said I never cried like that again, and it was because He kept me safe from my birth’s date on.

 

         Because of my Grandfather I was raised well; He kept His Son close to Him, and taught Him everything He knew.  My Father knew to do the same for me, and because of Him, I could not wait to be a Father like Him, to be able to love like Him, and show my children how to be fulfilled in life . . . while completing my Soul having them.

 

         Tomorrow is my anniversary, Fathers too, my partner and children are downstairs already planning what we'll do.  The basket of apples I noticed at breakfast must be for the cake and for my favorite type of pancakes, Fathers too.  I can expect to hope each year to have family and friends gathered, laughter and excitement always around.

 

     'Merry of your Start' my Father always sang to me on my day, and as my day was approaching he would say, 'you are coming' ‘but I am already here’ I exclaimed!  He explained, '…no matter how many years that will come to pass, the excitement of your arrival will be the same . . . already knowing what to name you, getting your side of the room ready…' Writing music and poetry long before I could read it, He sang it to me.  Danced about and sang with Him the poems He turned to music especially for occasions, specially those marked for me.  He held me close to Him and always told me, 'I love you, you have me for anything you need and with all the time you need.’

 

         I say the same things to my children as I happily watch them grow; they are an important part of my Soul, in helping its growth.  It was when Grandfather was alive that I knew I was going to be just fine for He loved His Son the way I knew I was going to be loved, His hug felt like Father's hug.  I looked up to them both.  And because they offered so much hope I knew I was going to be great, so it wasn't that difficult following the things they expected of me, especially since they only wanted me to do whatever it was that pleased me.

 

         The piano music He played soothed me.       I am sure I remember Him playing it before I was born, for it was so familiar to me once I was born.  It kept me calm.  It was because of Grandfather, I loved Father so much, I remember them being so much the same, similar dedication pronounced on their being as they stood, same warmth from their hands.  Sitting at their feet as they sat together on the bench, music creatively throughout the room as I quite often danced around.

 

     I wanted to be just like them, and so I listened to what they taught each other to be able to later join in.  Those parts written specifically for me for as far back as I can remember, I was always included; my Father always had me close to Him as He was next to His Father.  So sad He was when He lost His Father . . . my Grandfather gone, my Father gone now too … I get so sad.

 

         With our birthday tomorrow I can start to taste the sweet flavors of the apples baking, as we excitedly waited for our cake to be presented, sharing the first slice together, after we wished aloud sometimes the same. 

 

         Especially as I grew older, I realize we were just the same, the dedication of them now pronounced upon my being.  With each birth date that comes I can see I am moving closer to what I was shown, a life of true love as I live happily with my family with traditions from my beginning.

 

         Awakening to the early morning with the smell of apple baked pancakes with the air, my children singing, 'Merry of your birthday here, Papa your birthday is here.'  And even before my children were born, my partner came in the room singing the same, flowers and mimosas ready for my celebration, excited for what the day and evening will bring.

 

 

         By afternoon the field is filled with our family and friends, and even though it is warm outside we gather outside around the fire, some of us we paddle on the lake.  We eat, laugh and toast into the evening as we move the celebration higher.  Music getting louder as we kept the beat alive from the day; the celebrations lasted for as long as I can remember into the evenings.  I will remember Father, and each year today especially I will rejoice us in Song . . .

 

‘Happy birthday Father,

today is our day;

I never imagined you would be gone, 

so soon in my life,

but I have this date to remember,

to grow each year with you,

I have the slice of apple spiced cake

to wish the way we use to,

a similar hope to the future;

wishing for continued peace,

I miss you Father every single day,

but especially this date,

our birthday;

Happy Birthday, Father.’

 

         The fireworks happened after our company left.  It was well past midnight, and my partner walked facing me tossing mixed flowers’ petals at my toes, all the way to the path created so long ago, and we now keep up.  The fireworks happened at last; I could feel them as the excitement from all day and evening rose. Crystalline sparkle saturating the grounds, as relaxed down as we could be; the fireworks happened for my birthday . . . happy birthday to me.

 

         Of course I cried for my Father; I do especially on days like yesterday and every other celebration we planned, and all the other special moments shared.  And as much as I miss my Father, I long for my Grand One just the same . . . I remember how He called me 'little one' and never my name.

 

 

         He had the strongest hands, I would always place them on the bottom of mine and push down as hard as I could, He would lift me up, 'Little One you remind me of your Father, that is a great thing.' He made me smile, and so when Grandfather died I sat on the bed for as long as I needed to be, my Father was there too, comforting me from what we lost together … oh, how I long for Grandfather's hot and strong hands!

 

         Because my Father was so much like His own, I miss Him just the same, my name always sounded important as He beckoned me to come with Him.  We always awoke every day with excitement, racing down to the tree, deciding which apples to pick.  Lifting me up until I was tall enough to reach the branches on my own, these mornings now alone running across the field now without Him. 

 

         Although my children bring me the same joy as I awaken them the same way, especially during Summer’s time when the apples look ready to eat; when we wake to the singing of the birds, making up our own words, and sometimes recalling the music my Fathers left us ...

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