If Grandpa Henry Sommer had known he would die so early in life, leaving behind his wife and two young sons, I wonder what he would have done. Would he have taken numerous pictures of him with his family? Would he have started a diary, or written a long letter for his sons to read one day? Would it have been important for him to have been remembered so many years later by his seventy-two year old son lying in bed, himself dying?
This Easter, I was blessed with an extended time with my grandsons, the eldest two themselves now seven years old. I wonder if I depart earlier than I anticipate, will they remember me when they are seventy-two? What can I do to help them not only remember who I was, but perhaps a few lessons imparted to them? Should I take more pictures? Should I write them a long letter? Should I fill our time together with conversations and experiences?
One thing is for certain: I should do something.
This note is dedicated to my Dad, Ralph Sommer, and his Dad, Grandpa Henry Sommer.