ODE TO BRUCE
My grandpa was a force, and I was privileged to experience the man he was. Rarely are we able to express the full magnitude or impact a person leaves on us. The feelings are too large to fit into sentence structure. Below are words I’ve written to commemorate one of the grandest parents I’ve ever had.
Read by Pop-pop in 2018
Written in 2018
Pop-pop is the strongest
The boldest man on earth I know
I’d come running at a dangerous speed & he’d tell me to take it slow
I was always curious about the big solid hands that were his. A metal man. I love the way he’d mold the metal, I’d watch in a daze, like a child in a meadow
When Pop-pop picked me up, I never wanted to let go
Of the new car smell
The long trips
The bandages and bravery he taught me to have
Each time, I fell
He’d never fail
To give me what I needed
Nor hesitate to warm my tiny heart
With trips to the movie store so my mind could travel far and wide to another place
I loved my Pop-pop’s face
and I still do
I stand taller now, but he’s who I look up to
My Pop-pop carries the weight of the world and ignores those who say he can’t
He stops my tears and green lights my rants
Jazz is sweeter when my Pop-pop plays it.
I felt safer when Pop-pop saved it. A plate, A dollar, my life, and reality.
My Pop-pop, the strongest
is a dad to me.
EULOGY
Written June 13, 2020
This is my grandpa. He died today. He loved Blues & Jazz. He kept photos of Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie hanging around. He watched WHYY documentaries all the time just because, but he especially watched the ones about black people overcoming and how deep the oppression from the white man went. He was so pro-black, unprovoked and boisterous often. He wasn’t always nice, but he had a visibly kind heart. He was honest, wise, and genuinely respected. Poppop dealt a blow of reality to whoever, whenever it was needed, and even when we felt like it wasn’t warranted, it usually was. He liked my hair best when it was just my own. He always encouraged and questioned my individuality, which showcased his top-notch multi-tasking skills and duality. He made it a point to show us the world. We’d drive for hours to serene beaches and special parks far beyond the blocks people tried to confine us to.
My pop pop had gifted hands. His hands allowed him to bend metal and cure the ailing bus engines of Philadelphia for 30 years. He’d use those same hands to place 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of whatever new Volkswagen he leased out for the month. He’d use his hands to pull me from danger and drive me far away from it.
He’d make sure my belly was filled to the brim with all the best stuff, like orange chicken from the plaza on Belmont Ave or Cheesesteaks from Mamas Pizzeria. Large hard sourdough pretzels weren’t exactly a kid's snack, but I ate them because he did. My grandpa was the strongest man I knew, and through all his fussing, the various “oooos”, and ahhhs, his strength peeked through. I don’t know who’s gonna wear all his eccentric shirts like the one he’s wearing in the picture, but I guess we’ll sort that out later. I don’t know who I’ll watch MeTV with, and shows like “In the Heat of the Night” and “Rifleman”. Those shows made for instant bonding; although he sat quietly, I flooded him with questions I knew would make him suck his teeth so hard that spit would fly out. Apart of me, relished in that irritation. I don’t know who I’ll fight over seltzer water with because normal people don’t consume nearly as much spicy water as he did. “Mr. Allen, Mr. Bruce, Brother Allen,” that name held weight, and it always will. I wasn't ready for this, but did he ever really wait for me to be...ready?
"That's not how life works baby" is what he'd say, so I'm just going to deal with the hand I was dealt per my Poppop's consistent admonition. I haven't learned what it's like to miss someone who I know will not return, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.
The days following
Written June 28, 2020
You deserve to be immortalized. Nothing said will ever truly speak to the man you were. Far from perfect, but no distance at all from raw, unfiltered authenticity. You were the REAL deal. I painted you invincible because you always were to me. “The man who never folded”
You faced EVERYTHING head-on, stubbornly, immovable.
Pop-pop my “Grumpy Savior.”
Pop-pop, the man who took lil ol me ice skating, swimming, and bike riding.
Pop-pop’s number was saved in my heart because I knew that he’d come to my aid whenever I needed saving.
The same Pop-pop who taught me how to plant my feet firmly and elevate my mind above “funny acting” people and undesirable circumstances.
Pop-pop was my father figure , the grandest of parents. And I hate that death swallowed him.
One last exchange
Written July 3, 2020
I spent your last full year with you.
Same roof, same house, same old block, but this stay was different; it was sudden yet prolonged. We’d have many arguments about hospital visits, the amount of eggs I cooked for breakfast, and what was an acceptable time for me to come home at night.
We never used to bicker so much; it wasn’t something I was used to with you. But I adjusted. I knew It wasn’t personal; I knew your body was at war with time, and my young adult idiosyncrasies only added to that pain and irritation. You weren’t comfortable with me growing up; that message was loud and clear. But you did want me to “get out” lol. Out of your house and into the world to find my own to take some real responsibility. I did what you asked, but I should’ve lingered just to steal a few more moments, good, bad, fussy or calm. I wish I had just one last exchange with you.
