Life is and can be many things, but it’s not finite. Not for any of us, no matter how often it may seem like it or feel like it. Someday, we will no longer be here.

I got a pretty stark reminder of that tonight.

Albert Hailey Sr. lived to be 90 years old before his time in this world came to an end. My grandfather. AH1, as I started to call him over the past few years.

My grandfather was always a kind man of few words. Easy going. Jovial. These are qualities in him I didn’t take particular notice of until well into my adult years, but I think about them now and my respect for the man grows vastly.

I remember hugging him not too long ago. My grandmother passed, and it was really difficult to see him separated from the woman he was married to for over half a century. I’d never seen Grandpa cry before. Losing a loved one never really registered for me until I saw my father and grandfather mourn the loss of my grandmother.

It was a revelation of sorts.

In a general sense, I think there’s a sense of separation in family members when you don’t see them often. You go to a family cookout or something like that, and you catch your elders up on how you’ve been. What you’ve been doing.

“Work’s going fine. I started doing this new thing. Yeah, things are pretty good.”

But it’s all pretty superficial. It’s on the surface. Your path just kinda grazes past each other’s, and then you go back to your daily life. At least that’s how it’s felt for me. Not for any lack of care or compassion. We just didn’t talk very often.

But seeing my grandfather then opened my eyes to the idea that my grandpa was more than just my grandpa. He was the protagonist of his own story. How crazy must it have felt to bring children into this world, see them grow, and go on to have children of their own.

To see the future on the horizon, while the sun is continuously setting on your own story. It’s a baton relay of sorts. I, the third in a line of great men, am the result of their efforts. I carry the baton forward, and that’s an honor and privilege I carry with a renewed sense of pride and accomplishment.

My grandfather endured and worked through a lot of things. He sacrificed, and put his family before him. I never once heard him complain. I never once heard him ask for anything in return.

I have a terrible memory, but my first one is when I was around four or so. I was running down the driveway to greet my grandpa. He parked in front of the driveway, and I ran up to give him a hug.

My grandfather and I never had deep emotional conversations. He never knew too much about my personal life, but I wouldn’t be who I am now without him. He’d take me to basketball games as a kid. I’d stay over at his place as a kid until my parents got home from work. He taught me how to fish. We used to watch Charles Bronson movies and 80’s cop shows on summer afternoons, and everybody knew who he was at the supermarket I worked at.

Albert Hailey Sr. was a good man. I am lucky to be able to call him my grandfather. I hope he can look down on me and feel like his efforts were worth it. I hope I make him proud.

Thank you, Grandpa. You’re a legend.