A story about my grandfather

I would like to give you an example of how bullying can affect others. How it can change their lives forever. This is a part of that the bullies do not get to see. This story is true and the man ….. my grandfather.

My Grandfather was a man who loved nature, he was a good man stricken with Polio at an early age. The condition progressed as he aged. I remember his yard was like a gardener’s paradise. The time this man spent in his yard and garden was evident by its beauty.

I loved his yard and really enjoyed my time there. When you came up the drive there was a yellow pear tree. I remember eating them I can still remember how juicy and crisp they were. Looking off to the left there were yellow flowering bushes that lined the yard. The flowering bushes led to a purple plum tree that produced the biggest plumpest sweetest of purple plums. A large patch of orange tiger lilies grew near it, bordered by a plot of assorted Irises of blue’s, gold’s and whites. Beyond that lay a large vegetable garden that ran the length of the house.

The vegetable garden held many delights of the pallet. Fresh beans of various types. Large scrumptious tomatoes. Beyond the corn tall sunflowers danced on the wind as if welcoming you. Through the eyes of a child it was a wonderland that aroused the senses through sight and smells.

As you walked up the stone pathway to your right was a long grape arbor that followed beside the walk. As a child I remember getting sick eating too many of the grapes before they were fully ripe. Past the arbor stood a young English walnut tree. I remember my sister climbing it, hearing her scream and cry when a pair of squirrel’s grandpa would hand feed ran over her as she clung to the branches.

Past the young walnut tree stood six rose of Sharon bushes grandpa had planted as seedlings. Standing tall and full they had beautiful exotic flowers. I loved sitting and watching the jewel colored humming birds visit each. I believe I get my love of nature from my grandfather.

As you reach the porch there is Irises and Mums planted all along the house. The Mums were purchased for my grandmother as gifts, Grandpa kept propagating them until he had them all along the house. He showed me how to cut the stems and plant them making more.

I watched over the years as his legs grew worse going from a cane to having to crawl about on his hands and knees. Grandpa did not like wheel chairs and refused to use one. I had ever seen him in one twice. Grandpa would sit on his porch for hours and to tend his garden would crawl to it. I believe the garden was his sanctuary he loved it and it called to him.

One day I came home from school and when I reached the stone walkway something felt off. As I approached the house I seen my grandfather crying. I never seen him cry before. That day he did not go to the garden, he did not venture past the porch. Several days went by and still he ventured no farther than the steps. At the time I did not understand. I never did see my grandfather in the garden after that.

I found out later that while he was pulling weeds and tending his garden several neighborhood kids had taken it upon themselves to mock him. They threw stones at him calling him names like retard and cripple. My heart ached for my grandfather and I watched the garden slowly over run with weeds. Some things became overgrown as others withered and died.

Grandpa and Grandma eventually moved in with us, but grandpa was never the same. He lived a full life and us grand kids learned much from him, but I believe a small part of him withered with that garden. I will never get the image of him sitting on the porch crying out of my head. Those neighborhood kids took away a small part of my grandfather that day and I still feel the sadness today.

photos supplied by google