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Today, September 5, 2oo9. My Grandfather, Joseph Charles D. Croco passed away at 14:37. My Grandfather was 89 years old and died of cancer in his lungs. He died with his three children at his side and with a comforting sigh. I wish I had been there, but my Mother had more of a right then I ever would. She was closest to my Grandfather, he took her to Egypt and to Rome and to London. He was a teacher and most of my morals and ideals are his passed down threw my mother.
My Grandfather led a great life. He was born in California and did his homework by kerosene lamplight, his high school had no electrify and no running water, but when the year 2003 turned its head he went out and bought himself his own cell phone. He lived threw hardships and saw one of the greatest rise of technology.
He would later became a mechanic to the United states Air Force and fight in WWII, He led a Air Force Base in Montana, where he got three medals for service and in leadership. He raised three kids on his own, took care of his wife when she had a stroke and could no longer take care of herself. He was stubborn and I didn't talk to him when I was younger, but he was still kind to me and talked with me as best he could.
I will miss him and I will send my heart out to him. His three children have agreed that his ashes will not be spread until my brother (the youngest of his grandsons) will take to the sky and spread his ashes over the ocean.
A Pilots Tale
This life I'm in is done,
And at the gates I stand,
My hope is that I answer all
His questions on command.
I doubt He'll ask me of my fame,
Or all the things I knew, Instead,
He'll ask of rainbows sent
On rainy days I flew.
The hours logged, the status reached,
The ratings will not matter.
He'll ask me if I saw the rays
And how He made them scatter.
Or what about the droplets clear,
I spread across your screen?
And did you see the twinkling eyes.
If student pilots keen?
The way your heart jumped in your chest,
That special solo day-
Did you take time to thank the one
Who fell along the way?
Remember how the runway lights
Looked one night long ago
When you were lost and found your way,
And how-you still dont know?
How fast, how far, how much, how high?
He'll ask me not these things
But did I take the time to watch
The Moonbeams wash my wings?
And did you see the patchwork fields
And moutains I did mould;
The mirrored lakes and velvet hills,
Of these did I behold?
The wind he flung along my wings,
On final almost stalled.
And did I know I it was His name,
That I so fearfully called?
And when the goals are reached at last,
When all the flyings done,
I'll answer Him with no regret-
Indeed, I had some fun.
So when these things are asked of me,
And I can reach no higher,
My prayer this day - His hand extends
To welcome home a Flyer.
XXXXXX— Patrick J. Phillips
(Please, no "I'm sorry" Or any words of pity. I am sad that he is gone, but I am proud of the life he has lived. He needs no sorrow to be spread, but only the known fact that his life has touched many)
 K ii t s u n 3 · Sun Sep 06, 2009 @ 03:50am · 1 Comments |
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