|
 Grandpa
was a gardener at heart. Raised on a farm, his love for the
earth and growing things was evident in everything he did. As
his favorite grandson, I spent hours and hours with him in the
garden every summer. Under the hot summer sun, he shared his
love for the land, and it has never left me. Although he was
a strong man - one who would never have shown tenderness in
front of others, I saw how tenderly he treated a fragile new
shoot; how lovingly he tended a delicate flower until it blossomed
to perfection.
People
came from miles and miles around to admire the beauty of his
garden. They always left with arms full of flowers. His greatest
pleasure in life was sharing the beauty of his garden with
others - even though he never could have expressed it that
way. On the outside, he was a tough man with no emotions.
But I knew better.
 Grandpa
loved dahlias most of all. So wherever I go, I plant them
in his memory. My two children are beginning to learn to carry
on the tradition. When they take a bouquet to their teacher
or to a neighbor, I can't help but think he is smiling down
on them. It makes me proud to see my children sharing a part
of his tradition with others. They never knew him, but a part
of him lives on in them.
So
if they bring you a bouquet, or perhaps a funny brown tuber
for you to plant in your garden, they are sharing a part of
their heritage with you. Let it remind you that you too may
be remembered long after you are gone - perhaps in a way you
never expected.
Lee
Shurie
August 1998
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