It Mattered

I wrote this piece like 10 months ago. It was something I wrote for my grandfather. He passed away when I was only 5 so I don't remember him all that well. I like to think my grandpa Norm was a pretty awesome guy because he taught my father about life, work ethic, discipline, etc. I think the world of my dad and I'm pretty sure my grandpa had a lot to do with that...

But today I'm posting this piece in honor of my wife's grandfather (my grandfather too) Leslie William Collins. Although I only met "papaw" a couple of times, I am very fortunate to have met him. He was an incredible person that lived an incredible life. His life counted because he made a difference, gave back to his community, and truly knew the importance of family. He was a part of his community and was married to the love of is life for 70+ years. His legacy is in his children, his grandchildren, and the hundreds of people's lives he touched.

Is there anything else you can ask for in a lifetime?

He was the definition of what a good man is and he proved it everyday of his life.

Although I didn't know him well, I will always remember him through his daughter Annelle, her husband Ted, and their beautiful daughter Erin, my wife.

In honor of Leslie Collins, Here's the piece...

Last winter I was walking when I saw an old man sitting on a bench. He was weathered, and he looked a little beaten down by life. His clothes had seen many years. His eyes were sad and his hands looked as if he worked a laborer’s life. He looked lonely. I don’t exactly know what it was but something inside me told me to stop. So I did. I sat next to the man and looked at him. He looked familiar- that feeling you get that you’ve met this person before but can’t quite place it. He then looked at me. I tried to say hello but nothing seemed to come out. So I sat there; we sat there.

Silence. And then:

“It’s cold out here, isn’t it?” he said to me with what I can only assume was his best smile.

“Yes, it is, but you don’t seem cold, sir” I said.

“I’m not. I’m happy, I’m content. I've lived a very long time and I’ve seen colder days. I’m glad you chose to walk by this bench today. And I think it was important that you stopped.”

I didn’t want to be rude, so I decided to continue my conversation with this man. Although I thought he was a little peculiar, something told me to stay a little longer.

“I have lived a long time. I am old and I envy your youth, but my life was well spent. I married. I had kids. And my kids’ had kids. I provided for my family. I laughed. I danced. I cried. I witnessed death and witnessed life. I saw seasons come and seasons go. I am old now, but I am happy. My life mattered,” he said.

“That’s good,” I said, but I knew he had more to say.

“I hope that when you are my age you can sit on a bench and say your life mattered, because that’s all that really matters. And I hope that you make a difference in someone’s life. I hope that people remember you when you’re gone. And I hope they talk about you often. That’s what counts. Because when you become my age the materialistic goals you work so hard for will no longer matter.”

“I hope so too, sir,” I said awkwardly. “I hope I can make a difference and I hope people remember me. I want to live a life that matters.”

“Son, you are living a life that matters. You stopped to talk to me, didn’t you?” said the old man.

“Yes, but--” I said.

He continued, “You didn’t have to stop. You could have run right past me, but you didn’t. You stopped and you talked to this old man on this bench on a cold winter day. And that has made all the difference in the world. You stopped because your heart is big and you knew that you should stop. Something told you to stop.”

And then this old man, weathered by life, with the tattered clothes, and the familiar eyes said something I will never forget.

He said, “If you hadn’t stopped then we wouldn’t have gotten the chance to talk today. You don’t remember me, but I remember you. I held you when you were young and there were a lot of things I never got to tell you. We never got the chance to talk like we are talking now. But today you stopped, and that mattered, because now I can say this…

Hello, Derek. My name is Norman. Norman Stafford. I am your grandfather. It’s nice to meet you.”