Silent Memories

I keep Silent Memories next to my heart for my Papa and me. In the Muskoka spring of 1981, we walked together as we had done so many times before.  We searched together for our favourite rocks of granite, quartz and gneiss. “Some of the most colourful rocks can be found in the dirtiest and ugliest rock extrusions,” he would say.  This is the rock we found that day, my Papa and me. As we searched for rocks, I learned much about life from my Papa.  He was determined, and wanted the best for me.  Papa cared about me, and wanted me to be successful.  He said I should always have a good pair of shoes.  We had a special bond, my Papa and me. Papa was bald and had a pot belly.  He had diabetes and a heart condition.  Once, I nervously gave him his needle.  Papa gave me a genuine sapphire necklace.  I helped him and he helped me.  His only Granddaughter.  I was thirteen when he died on August 8, 1984.  My Papa and me. I cherish those times.  I cherish those memories.  He will always live on in Silent Memories.  I miss you, Papa.