The grandfather has lived long enough to know how shallow and ephemeral fads can be. His role is to impart a higher wisdom. He is concerned about the things that nourish and endure: faith, love, beauty and one’s eternal destiny. He has survived fads and his words come from a life that has not been lived from impulses of the moment. He may have silver in his hair, but he has gold in his heart.
Grandfatherhood is not only an honor, it is also a paradox. When a man begins to feel old, his grandchildren can make him feel young again. An hour with one’s grandchildren can be rejuvenating; but any longer than that, it must be noted, it can be debilitating. It is a paradox tinged with poignancy. As the sands of time flow from the upper region of the hourglass, they fill the lower half. Advancing age is redeemed by emerging life. Thereby, life is not diminished. Time is not wasted. Sacrifices are not in vain.
And so, I will proudly accept the title of grandfather, a title shared by clocks and clauses, those apt and enduring symbols of time and antiquity. I will boast that I have evolved from a lad to a man, a husband to a father, and finally to a grandfather. At the summit of life, the view is certainly grand.