Day 327: Me and my Papa B

This post applies to the day of my grandfather's funeral. I asked my grandmother Edna to pick up a poem for me that I had written about seven years ago but was kept in their cabin bedroom. I planned to read it but I didn't realize how moving it was or how applicable it was to a funeral. Some of it, like the house, doesn't apply anymore but here it is:

The music which flows throughout my genes
came from my grandpa much older than me.
He plays the piano and so do I;
He will play the piano until the day he dies.
But that's not what matters,
What matters is this.
And it's also the one thing about him that I will miss.
He teaches me lessons everyday.
He teaches me to grow in every way.
Lessons about abundance in life,
Lessons that keep me free of worry and strife.
But I needed a place to apply these lessons, a place to hold our new possessions.
So he provided a dwelling and there I now stay;
Be patient, it's coming, a piano's on the way.
About a year later in the month of July
The piano arrived; oh my! Oh my!
His vision's alive but his work is not done
He continues to help his favorite grandson.
And that is why I love him so.
Sit back Papa B and watch me grow.

R.I.P. Papa B