Few months ago he told me that this year he and my grandmother would celebrate 60 years married, the diamond wedding anniversary. Even though my grandmother seems a bit uncomfortable with that demonstration of advanced ages, he was telling me with a kind of proud in his eyes and I saw that it could not be entirely understandable for me and, even most relevant, probably neither for the most of the people in the whole world.
And I can hear my grandmother whispering "What we will do without you from now on?" when she thinks that she's alone, and actually I got sometimes those thoughts for myself. But now I can see that it's not possible to be without him. After some meditation I'm sure that I'd not be the one I am nowadays if i didn't had met him. He was an artist. Despite of the fact that he never had handled a pencil or a guitar, he was a real artist. He was a dreamer, a worker, a lover, a planner everything always intensely merged, like indissociable. He could build everything. Houses, planes, TVs, swords, toys, everything. He showed me that I must be proud of my work and the only way to reach it is doing it always with 'something more'. And after some time I can figure out that I can't actually enumerate all the things that I've learned with him. They're just there, they're just me. And all I can think is that even without knowing it, someone will, someday, somehow, embrace my grandpa's thoughts through my thoughts. As matter becomes to new matter, thoughts becomes to new thoughts - and thus each part of a man has a chance to live forever, although not together. And I'm feeling well now because I'm sure that he is close to me more than ever, in my blood and in my mind. If there's a soul in fact, it doesn't matter. Even without it, I have now a best concept to proudly answer that so asked question "is there something more after life?" - Yes, there is. And I don't care if someday i'm not gonna be here to watch it.
Thanks, vô. It's precisely like a lamp. It shines.
