Papa Mzee

When I was a teenager, my Grandpa taught me that "Papa Mzee" was Swahili for "Grandpa". I've Googled it this evening, to get the spelling right, but I am not finding it. Maybe it's a dialect of some sort? In any case, it was a private joke between us that I would call him "Papa Z" until I was in college.

Grandpa slipped away from this world tonight, at the age of 95. We had been expecting this for a couple of weeks, but the finality of reality is rough. My aunt sent a current picture of him several days ago, which was painful to see: my once strong grandpa looked almost skeletal.

When I was in Junior High, I had to write a paper about "My Hero". I chose to write about my Grandpa. He rose above his meager beginnings through years and years of hard work. He has been all over the world. He can fly a plane, and sail a boat. After his retirement, he learned to carve. He has made many, many gorgeous bird sculptures, realistic down to the individual carved feathers. We own 3 of them. This is a picture of Grandpa presenting one of his blue bird carvings to J.



Grandpa was such a gentle man. I used to watch his hands. They were large, calloused and tanned. He would hold Grandma's hand tenderly, or pat her knee. He would rub them slowly together as he talked.

His voice was deep and soft. Tonight I remember his whistle, and his call: "Hey all you lucky people, I'm home!"