Life isn’t fair
Eleven years have spun like cotton thread,
Since the day they told us Grandpa was dead.
The fields of summer turned a mournful brown,
And a piece of my heart went six feet down.
I was just a boy, knee-high to a plow,
Clinging to his hand, wondering how,
Life could ever be right, or skies so blue,
When the best man I knew was suddenly through.
Now I stand tall, a man in my own right,
But Grandpa's not here to see my light.
He missed my first shave, my awkward first date,
The victories won, the stumbles of fate.
I often wonder, with a tear in my eye,
Would he recognize the man passing by?
Would he see his grit, his love, his gentle soul,
Reflected in the dreams that make me whole?
But there's solace in the scent of gasoline,
A comfort in the engine's powerful sheen.
I'm building a derby car, Grandpa, it's true,
Just like you taught me, with bolts shining and new.
You loved the rumble, the roar, and the speed,
The thrill of the race, planting a winning seed.
I feel you beside me, your hand on the wrench,
Guiding my fingers, helping me clench.
This car ain't just metal, it's memory and might,
A tribute to you, burning ever so bright.
Each car I smash, each victory I claim,
I whisper your name, carrying on your flame.
So though you're not here to watch me grow,
Your love's in my heart, a steady, warm glow.
And as I cross that finish line, fast and free,
I know you'll be cheering, right there with me.
The sun dips low, painting the sky with hues of gold and rust,
much like the memories
that time cannot fully erase.
Sometimes,
in the quiet of the evening, I swear I can hear his laughter
carried on the wind, a gentle reminder that even in absence,
love endures.
Building this derby car has become more than just a hobby;
it's a bridge across the years,
a tangible connection to the man who taught me the value of hard work and the thrill of the open road.
Each piece I fit, each adjustment I make,
is a testament to his enduring influence.
And so, I press on, fueled by love and remembrance,
knowing that though he may not be here in body,
his spirit rides shotgun, guiding me toward the finish line and beyond.
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