All posts tagged: grieving

Tin Man Heart

1961 Thanksgiving Eve an untimely tragedy left my father fatherless and you the only grandpa I ever knew.   Model airplanes on wire, Posters of cars, Hawaii. Jam jars of nails and screws. Drill press Band saw Pine planks Light bulb glow on sawdust drifts. Miniature engine parts, boxed beside piles and piles of Popular Mechanic.   1966 Chevelle. Three on the tree. Dueled exhaust. Cherry-bomb mufflers. Your apple-red beauty, polished to mirror gentle hands, oil-black and coarse.   1956 The girl from Iowa chose Spokane and you.   One daughter, a wealth of sons to pass along your lessons on the mechanics of life and love. A generation old enough to tell of your mischief and kindness. Babies too young to remember your hazel eyes, but small enough to wrap tiny fingers around your thumb.   1995 Frantic surgery. Aortic-valve. You almost died. Then, tick-tick tick-tick tick-tick a Tin Man heart.   Years and years and years, mercy-filled and overflowing. Moments of fragility, Brokenness.   Your heart clocked a lot of mileage. More than …