I really like reading all the letters Gil ("Gramps," for me) sent over the years. He encouraged me to continue progressing in my visual art; so much so in fact, that he ordered multiple lecture DVDs on Michaelangelo and other art-related topics. We had many warm telephone conversations (and letters) expressing delight in learning about art.
For a few years, Gramps and I collected state quarters, sending them to each other as a gallant accomplishment. He sent me art-related articles from the Wall Street Journal. He also gave advice on my developing art skills, and explained what kind of camera I needed to take good pictures of my art. We also compared notes on growing tomatoes, which we both liked to do. He found solace in hearing about my biological father's religious faith, while battling lung cancer. Gramps wrote, "Physicians are acutely aware of [the fact that they don't know how long they will live], and generally ask for God's help over and over again; I know I have." I hope that in his last breaths, Gramps found peace in asking to be released from suffering.
I got to learn about Gramps's childhood in upstate New York. He got to ski to grade school in the winter months, which I found a novelty. Gramps told me that, when one of his sons brought a potential girlfriend home, Gramps, being a retired army gynocologist, would walk the new girl friend to the living room where, on the hearth sat anitque speculums. He'd assess the workability of each relationship based on the girl friend's reaction recognizing the speculums.
Gramps strengthened my hope that I would someday have a loving relationship with my biological father. He wrote, "I had no clear idea of how painful that your separation from your father was to you. It's my belief that God loves us all, even when we can't understand it when we suffer. I also have faith that we will all be able to meet again in heaven; tell your dad that when that happens, you will need a big hug and a kiss from him! Perhaps a leap of faith for you, but a good one."
I'm sorry Gramps suffered from throat cancer. He was always tough, and never complained, as far as I know. It can't have been easy, struggling to breathe. I envision him in a much better place. I will miss him very much. I'm going to bring the letters he sent to me to the memorial. He is already missed and I miss the inspiration he found when he saw my art.
I love you, Gramps!
Megan