The present: a leather bound scrapbook with something written by each of his children and grandchildren, filled with pictures, and put together by his oldest granddaughter. Some gifts keep giving. They bring memories, laughter, and tears--or leaking eyes as he likes to say.
The book is there for perusing, for sharing, for enjoying. And any time he doubts if his life has had meaning, it is there to remind him that he matters.
Part of the Prologue to his book, lyrics from the musical Rent:
How do you measure a life so dear?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee?
In inches, in miles, in laughter, or in strife?
In truths that you learned?
Or in times that you cried?
You measure the life in love.
Remember the love.
Your life measures up incredibly well if you measure it in love, and in the scheme of things that is all that really matters.
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee?
In inches, in miles, in laughter, or in strife?
In truths that you learned?
Or in times that you cried?
You measure the life in love.
Remember the love.
Your life measures up incredibly well if you measure it in love, and in the scheme of things that is all that really matters.
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