Family

Leo Tolstoy wrote: "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

I will be the first person to admit that I come from an extremely dysfunctional family. I can't even begin to enumerate the ways in which it is dysfunctional, but suffice it to say that we would hold our own against the best (or worst) of them.

That said, I do love my family. And no matter how crazy I feel when I am around them, there is always a certain longing to be with them. Perhaps it is habit, perhaps it is a bit of masochism, more than likely it is love.

And so it is with that backdrop that I flew home last Friday to be with my family during the last days of my grandfather's life. I grew up with my grandparents, and my grandfather is, in essence, my father.

The last few days have been, to say the least, difficult. But today was the first day I was able to have some time alone with my grandfather. It was painful and gratifying all at once. Looking at him, even in his weakened state, it is impossible to think of him any other way except the strong, handsome man that showed love in his own quiet way. I never questioned his love even though I know it was hard for him to show it. But his love, his infinite patience, and belief in the good in all people is what will live on in my heart and hopefully in my own actions.