A poem for Grandpa

I often ask my clients who it was that delighted in them when they grew up. To feel ‘enjoyed’ by an adult is one of the more important elements of childhood, and one of the worst things we can experience if neglected. Fortunately, my grandpa was one of them for me. He passed away in early August of 2025 and I wrote this poem for him, which we read at his funeral. If you’ve lost a grandpa who delighted in you, I hope this can bring you some solace.

As a boy, he was my hero,
a man standing above giants.
His piercing blue eyes and sharp laugh
were my delight, my joy, my home.

Time spent with him was full and free.
His shop a waiting adventure,
generous presence a comfort,
bright smile, the safest place on earth.

As a teen, he was my model:
peanut butter out of the jar,
finding pleasure in tricky work,
overalls and suits his dress code.

To know that I was his delight,
apple of his eye – no question -
the place I felt special and free,
was with the steely blue-eyed man.

As a young man, he was my light
that I would walk by in the dark.
To make him proud was my great aim,
but one I’d already achieved.

And as I learned of his failings
I became more comfortable
with my own, more whole and able,
learning to hold tensions as both.

As a man, he was my old friend.
My teacher and guide whose wisdom
I longed for and sought through stories.
A sage who taught through living words.

His story matured along with
me, no longer a giant but
frail. I still learned, but now through the
concurrence of weakness and strength.

As a grandson, I mourn him now
from gratitude and grace received.
Learning to understand the whole
of the blue-eyed man who loved me.