DAVID KESSLER. 1916 - 2007.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Two days after he turned 91, my grandfather died. I don't know why, but I felt a strong urge to mine all my old photos. I was looking for one in particular.

Along the way to finding it, I found a lot of other things too. It's amazing how detailed the memories can be that come rushing back from decades ago, just from the uncovering of some detail. An old girl scout sash. My Sunday School confirmation paper. Drawings my little sister made for me when she was a toddler. My 4th grade report card (it looks eerily like Sarah's). Sorority photos. Images of my impish little blond brother.

It's this photo that I was searching for:

Although I have known my grandfather for 42 years of my life, it's these early childhood memories that are truly the strongest for me. The smell of pipe tobacco and the fascination of watching him load and smoke it. The silent presence that was never far away whenever we kids were about. Of all of my grandparents, he had such a strong presence. The firm, judgmental, sometimes frustrating patriarch holding court in his dining room over corned beef (always corned beef). The other half of an elegant couple who exuded a quiet grace. The photos of my grandfather as a young Navy man... there were some at my grandmother's house on display, and I remember trying to imagine what he was like newly married, before the crush of kids and responsibility. Maybe he was just a very stalwart person, but he always seemed so physically robust and even until the very end of his life, was not chronically ill or in pain.

My grandfather didn't express a lot of his deeper emotions verbally. It was his eyes that gave him away. With one look he could hug you, or eviscerate you. Sometimes I wonder what he actually acknowledged in this life. I wonder if he fully grasped that my grandmother was a brilliant woman. I wonder if he was a very reflective person.

I know that he was amazed and enthralled by his grandchildren. He found it easier to express his love for us than for his own children, I believe. In taking pride in our accomplishments, I think he was celebrating his own kids in a manner he couldn't find a way to do when he was a parent. He took true delight in knowing what we were up to. He loved and appreciated Don as well... they had a passion for cars in common, and several good and bad personality traits.

My grandpa was also a very flawed person. I remember how he frustrated my grandmother, my mother, my uncle, his in-laws. He didn't have many peers and he allowed a family argument to permanently divide him from his sisters. And he could be very self-righteous. I'm pretty sure most adults found him a very harsh cocktail. I'm glad I knew him as "grandfather," because I got to see part of him that most of the world would be surprised existed. The soft inside beneath the hard shell.