Visiting my grandmother and grandfather on the farm in Michigan are some of my favorite childhood memories. Though my grandfather grew old, eventually, he remained always a child at heart. My brother and I, we delighted in playing with him in these moments; frolicking around the acreage, creating innocent havoc. We would draw the string on a large bow and release arrows into the air. The journey of discovery lied in fetching them. We would ride on the tractor and plow through lush growth back to the stream that trickled behind the plot. When we got there, to this mystical place, we would roar back to the barn, refreshed, reborn. You could always watch him make the shift from adult to child and back again. This delicate play is something that great artists and creators can do. I tend to think of my grandfather in this light, though the content of his life was different. He mostly served in the army, worked on factories and his farm. He always found moments to be creative and to contribute. He prided himself on repairing and altering things in unorthodox ways. He seemed to delight in this power that he had. Toward the end, he was having a difficult time. I got to visit a few months before he passed. It was the first time I ever saw him cry, actually. He was not quite ready to surrendering to the experience. He was pressing back against the pain because there were so many little things he enjoyed doing. This is when life becomes rich, I think. Once we figure out how to enjoy the day to day rituals we create for ourselves. I just wanted to send love to you, grandpa. May your soul play in the field of eternity as your eternal child. And thank you for enriching our lives in profound ways. If it weren't for you, what I have come to know as "I" would not be here. Blessings.