To My Grandfather

Anthony Gerald Hertner

Regrettably, I did not know you very well.

I think it is a rare thing to discover who your Grandfather is. There are decades between us; innumerable days and nights, but I am your inescapable kin. There is an ethereal tether linking you and I, a bond that does not require an exchange of words.

One of the few memories I have of you is when you would tend your garden. You were surrounded by your family, over a dozen of your own. And It seemed that you were proudest of the blooming flora you had tended to for so long. I don’t believe that you needed the admiration of your children or their children. You had contented yourself with the simple fact that you had created these lives, and you were satisfied knowing that they also had a chance at happiness.

You did not have an easy life. Your wives had passed on, leaving you widowed and surmounted on an edifice of loneliness. Yet you continued, ceaselessly moving forward searching for hope, and companionship. I could only pray for the strength that would require, and I do not believe my shoulders are strong enough to bear such sorrow.

I do not begrudge you for anything you’ve done. Perhaps it is not my place to harbor such feelings, but maybe it is my place to forgive you only so that we may both have peace. I believe, truly, that you wanted only to find happiness: a fractured yet gleaming radiance in the mire.

I can see you in my Father and in myself. There are certain qualities we all share because of you, and for that I am grateful. And I believe you did what you could and in turn, my Father gave me a life I’m sure you would have liked to have given him.

For everything you did, and for everything you wanted to do, thank you.

Aaron