The Measure of a Man

Today, I attended my grandfather's funeral. It was the first time I had seen him in a few weeks. His health was failing and the last thing I remember that he said to me was, "don't get old." My grandfather had always been self-sufficent and a self-made man in times when blacks were looking for the "other" to help a brotha' out. He took enormous pride in his heritage and where he came from. A few years ago, as if in a museum he showed me some black and white photographs of my great-great grandfather and told me the story behind him. He boasted proudly about the strength in his back and how he stood tall even as he got along in his years. My grandfather's sharing of that bit of history with me was as if he was letting me in on a secret. He told me, we were free long before slavery was abolished and lived free in Ohio for over a hundred years before the proclamation had been made that negroes were freed in the South.

Many people had different opinions about who my grandfather was in his life. But despite it all, he had done a whole lot for many of those people whose memory he will live on in. Despite what anyone had to say about him, good, bad, or indifferent, he earned respect from them all. He was a son, a husband, father, and a man. He did everything he was supposed to do while he was on this earth, including, serving his country. I pray that he finds peace in the hereafter!