To Ernst...

Life is such a funny, fickle thing. Its twists and turns excites, inspires, breaks, angers, and awes us. Our fascination with it and our absolute clueless application of such a power leaves us so lost in it that we forget how valuable it is until it is taken away, much like many things in the world.

My grandfather, on my Swiss side, passed away last week at the age of 87, 88 in August. We were never very close, we never went fishing, we hardly spoke to each other, although we did do a lot of walking and when we did manage to talk to each other it was one of the most gratifying feelings. He saved my life once, well, indirectly. During the second world war he was contemplating running away to Argentina to escape the possibility that Hitler would invade Switzerland. He is not Jewish so his exodus would not have been for the sake of religious freedom (or preservation of life due to religious affiliation) but rather to escape the possibility of a complete nut dictating his life. Thanks grandpa, for deciding to stick it out.

The last time I saw him was in September 2006, during my amazing trip through Europe. Over the past ten years, each time I visited him we got a little closer, and this past vacation was no exception. I saw him in his usual form; busy. He was always a very active man, never once did I see him not do anything physical. His passion was his garden where he grew fruits, vegetables and flowers. It was his church, his life, love, and true home. He won awards for it, but beyond that its true merit lies in the fact that everything that grew out of that garden was pure in perfection and was a true representative of him. Having grown up on a farm it must have been the one thing he had that reminded him of his youth, much like how traveling is my one constant, my true love and passion...that garden was his gateway to eternal youth. Most of all, much like my passion, his garden was the ultimate expression of his love for life and very reminiscent of much better times, a much better world.

Whenever someone passes they inspire. They leave the world with people looking to their memory and remembering all the potential in their lives. Sometimes it is a sad thought, that the fact that you weren’t close to the person that passed reminds you of what you could have with your loved ones at the moment, in turn inspiring you to make more of an effort to be better...a beter grandson, son, daughter, mother, father, whatever.

I miss my grandfather tremendously, I know that we never got the chance to be close, given the fact that my father’s profession required him to travel significantly. Now that I know when I go back to Switzerland he will not be there, Switzerland will no longer be the same place in my mind. You see, people like me, we are a rare breed of humans. I still do not have a country as a home. The world is my home. Going to Switzerland is like walking from my living room to the family room. Imagine if a major component of what evoked the feeling of family in that room suddenly disappeared or was rearranged; that room would never be the same again.

I could end this by saying “I wish I had ______with him.” There is no need for for me to say that because I could go on forever. I only wish to be a better person, I only hope that I could become half the man that he is. My father, brother and I are his legacy, and the least I can do is to focus on the great adventure of life; his best gift to us.