When I am down and somewhat frustrated with life,
I might even say discouraged, because my body
No longer functions as I wish it to,
My thoughts are drawn to my Grandfather Thiessen.
A man who suffered tragedy after tragedy,
And endured much more pain than I have ever known.
He was born in 1869 in South Russia, now Ukraine.
His early youth seemed fairly normal, although
He left school at age fourteen to help the family.
Then in 1891 he married Anna Schellenberg,
They had ten children; six survived,
But the mother also died, leaving Grandpa
With a large family to take care of.
Grandpa married again, a widow with nine children.
Together they had one son, and then
The mother succumbed to the Spanish flu.
Then Grandpa married once again,
To another widow with children.
Alas, she also died, leaving a family
That needed care and attention.
Another marriage brought a fourth wife
Whose children were already grown.
They built a home together in Clearbrook,
But soon Grandpa was alone again.
Imagine, four deaths within some forty years!
I find this hard to fathom; I’ve lost one spouse
And still mourn at this loss, but four times!
Not only had my Grandpa suffered many losses,
His health was failing; he had diabetes
Causing near blindness, this plus the loss of hearing
Made his life far from comfortable.
My parents moved in with him for there he knew his way,
My brother and I moved as well–not happily, I might add.
I was finishing grade eleven and wanted to stay in Chilliwack
To graduate with my long-time friends.
But that was not to be, and so we moved.
I changed schools, made new friends and survived!
My Grandfather had a red bench next to the back door.
He sat there often, seemingly without a care.
And yet, when I came home from school
He patted the bench, indicating I should sit with him.
He asked me about my day; he spoke of things
That were a concern to him.
He did not wallow in his many losses.
He spoke optimistically about his present life;
Grandpa had that sense; he knew when things were going badly
And wanted me to have full-body armour of joy.
He has been gone for many years,
But in our entryway sits that old red bench
And on the wall a picture of Grandpa on that bench.
Each time I sit on that red bench,
I see Grandpa, and I know he has wished, and still does
Wish, the best for me–a life of joy and richness.