He's smiling in the photo soft creases at the corners of his eyes I like to think I was given his smile. This morning I wondered what words i would use to describe him. How his voice, airy with age, greeted me, through that smile and the creases at the corners. He'd say, "we love you." I am grateful, he tried to offer my language of love. What words will tell of the generosity of a man who grew up before he was allowed to be a child? How will I share, fully, the ways he loved and worried in equal parts? He is not verbose ever curious, he holds space for others in conversation. He lacks patience, is quick to anger. But mostly quick to loyalty to his family. He is both mountain and sea Strong and peaceful Stubborn and learning Even when my Nanna forgets who he is and shouts insults, he attempts understanding. "Iola," He'll comfort, "what is it?" She shakes her head and falls bedind the wall built from dimentia. He looks at me, creases at the corner of his eyes, "she was such a strong woman. She took care of all of us." Loyal I think I'll say. My grandfather was loyal, and steadfast in his love.