Legacy

  I think of him quite often. We most certainly continue our discussions – if only in my head. He of “the greatest generation.” Stoic and quietly proud.

Enveloped in silence and most often lost in the glory of books and literature. He encouraged creativity and never fully questioned my failures. Never discouraged.

“Reading is knowledge”, he softly declared. Ruminations on life and all it’s many questions and challenges. Shared within the beauty and glory of words and language. On paper. Tactile. His greatest passion.

His letters are saved. Shelved uninterrupted in my basement. I peek at them on occasion. If I need a good cry. Maybe inspiration. Heroic prose. Rewarding. Encouraging my individual abilities to transform, enlighten and change.

Did he recognize the treasured gifts left behind?

I wonder.

No. I believe I know.