As I was dozzing off to dream land my eyes wandered over to the top of my dresser upon which many pictures in frames sit. One inpaticular caught my eye though and my mind went racing. It was the picture of me as a baby being held by my Pepere( which means Grandpa in French). He looks to be about the age that my dad is now, mid to late 6o's and he looks happy. As I lay there thinking about that moment of time captured forever now by a photograph I thought of all many unanswered questions I still have about this man I called "Pepere". I wondered, where did he work to support his family of 3 boys and his wife, where did he get his genes for being oh so clean all the time, did he have OCD because many of his house cleaning habits lead me to believe he might have been a bit on the OCD side, did he leave knowing he was loved, did he have a favorite color or favorite hobby, how come he was so good with money? I know so little of this man who is now only remembered by a photo in my mind. This got me thinking about life in general and how we all often think so much more of ourselves than we ought. Will anyone even remember anything about me when I pass on? If so, what will it be that they remember most? What I remember most about Pepere is that he loved to make kites, he was very resourceful and clean, he was very skinny, quiet, and wore sweaters all the time. Strange things to remember but there you have it.
All these thoughts led me to this prayer, God teach me to number my days that I might get a heart full of wisdom, that I don't forget that I am but dust, and so that I don't take one single breath for granted.
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