01/05/2026
I never had the chance to meet him in this lifetime.
He left this world before I was born.
And yet, I have felt him with me for as long as I can remember.
This is my grandfather.
An artist.
A lover of nature, oil paints, and wood shaped by his hands.
When I restored this photograph, something inside me shifted.
I loved this portrait even when it lived only in black and white,
soft, quiet, incomplete.
But seeing him now with more detail, more presence,
it stirred something deep in my heart.
A feeling I can’t fully explain.
Like recognition. Like remembrance.
I have always felt a strong connection to him.
Even as a child, before I understood why.
Now I wonder if creativity travels through time,
through blood, through soul,
finding new ways to speak.
I still have one of his oil paintings.
And some of his sketches.
Maybe one day I’ll share them here too.
For now, I’m just sitting with this moment.
With gratitude.
With love.
With the quiet magic of finally seeing him—
not just as a photograph,
but as part of me.
🤍
