I’m short because of my grandfather
but I forget more than I remember that it’s him I’ve taken after.
To me he was a shadow painted into family portraits.
Only half real in any memory I still have of him and I together.
But that’s the danger of not knowing anything about a person
besides the fact they’re sick.
You have to wait for photos after the funeral once the sorting has begun.
Then you find the questions that you should have asked
burning behind your mouth without the person you want the most
anywhere to be found.
Today’s daily prompt Grainy reminded me of this old photo of my Grandfather and his friend from when they toured around France on their bikes. My uncle had it restored after it was rediscovered a little while after my Grandfather passed away. It was one of the first stories I heard that made me realise I’d never asked him about his youth or even his life before I was born.