I take words and the power of words very seriously, and I don't say certain words lightly to just anyone; perhaps I am very selective. There are negative words, such as those used when complaining, which attract the very thing we are complaining about, so I don't do that or try to control it as much as possible. And there are words of affection, which I love to say; that gratifies me.
Words like friend and love are words reserved only for certain people. Today, they are used very broadly, especially on social media... everyone is friends... but are they? I am talking about true friendship. I think they are more like acquaintances.
The same thing happens to me with love. Love is not a feeling I take lightly, but something profound, and I'm not referring here to universal love, which, of course, I give to everything and everyone, but that love for a particular person. Of course, I love my family, which consists of my mother and brother. There are few of us. I love my cats and special people. But there are few of them.
There are also people who are no longer here, but I still love them. The fact that I can't see or hug that person doesn't mean that the love is gone. The first person who came to mind is my grandfather, my maternal grandfather.
I am 47 years old and he passed away when I was 7. So what I experienced with him was very little but intense. Does quantity or quality matter? I believe that quality prevails. I loved him before, when he was with me, and I love him now after so many years, and not just because he was my grandfather, because that title is only a matter of blood. He was a real grandfather, one who loved me with all his being and showed me that love. And I know I love him because when I talk about him, or in this case write about him, I get emotional and tears always come to my eyes.
From him I inherited my love of the sea, boats, photography, nature, travel and even magic. We got up to mischief together and he covered for me so my mother wouldn't find out. He indulged me, accompanied me, was always there for me. He let me comb his hair and mess it up... I was just a little girl, but he indulged me.
The day he left, I just kept repeating one phrase over and over: ‘He was good, he was good.’ I thought that good people didn't die, or that's how it should be. I felt a huge void. I appreciated that he showed me his love, I value that very much. And after he left, I always talked to him. I will never forget how he held my hand as we walked.
I learned a lot from my grandfather, from his successes and even more from his mistakes. I know he adored me.
And many years later, without seeking it or suspecting it would happen, it was thanks to my grandfather, Fermín, who never wanted to become an Argentine citizen, that I was able to obtain my Spanish nationality, and I believe he brought me back to his homeland so that I would be better off. I will never forget how sweet he was to me and his displays of love. What I asked him for in secret, after he left, he fulfilled, and I know that he has always taken care of me. I will always love him.
Love is something that is earned, that is felt without explanation, something that arises like magic. And my love for my grandfather will endure through the ages. This great topic and much more that @galenkp offers us in the brilliant weekend topics invite us to reflect.
Thank you very much for reading today, I wish you a very good weekend. See you soon.
Amonet.
Used translator Deepl.com free version.
