James Summers

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He was joy and full of life, his soul lighting the dark. He loved a stranger as if it was his own, but his family he kept in his heart always. Wearing that smile lifted everyone’s spirits in the stormy days as the shine on the top of his bald head gave him that jolly appearance. He was the sort of man you could never forget. Once you met him, he was planted inside your memory and heart forever. Besides his family, collecting was his pride joy; anything that he could get his hands on, anything that he could use in some way or another. Relaxed he was, sitting with his wife and dogs watching the beauties of life. Although, like every human being, his voice was raised more than once or twice, but for the most part, he was soothed loving and gentle as the grass flowing in the harsh wind. He was called the Old Fart because of his warped humor and that touch of a donkey. Faith high with our Father, he continued to share it with the world that needed it. He talked of politics and many other things that drowned you in dull, ocean waves and at times he wouldn’t shut up about them, but he was also a grace to be around and a laugh worth every breath.

He was a sort of tall, young, pot bellied, bald, old man. Besides the bristles of gray hair along the lining around the jaw and smoother hair around the ears, his head was naked, telling a story to anyone who was to believe it. When he sneezed, it was like his voice box was hooked up to high volume speakers, forcing something to jump inside of you every time it brushed against your eardrums no matter how many times it was already heard. Married into a family of five children, he watched it grow into a village of loved ones that spread out all over the US, but his love and joy for traveling allowed him and his wife to visit them as often as possible.

These words written above will never be enough to describe the man I once encountered. The love he had for people as well as the love he was given will never become possible for man to describe. He wasn’t perfect, but he was someone anybody was lucky to meet. Though I am grateful for the part I was placed in his life, I still wish I had more time; I ponder over what it would be like if he was here seeing me through my best and seeing me through my worst as I get older and things change the way they should. I don’t know him as much as many others and even though he no longer remains in this messed up place we call life, I will always be proud to call him Pop.





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