A package arrives from my grandfather, full of beautiful pencil sketches, ink drawings and poetry. I pour over each one, amazed and inspired.
One in particular holds my attention. An ink sketch of a bear wrapped in chains. It’s one of the few he has titled: “I can’t escape it.”
The first time I ever saw my grandfather, it was through the bars of a prison cell. He and another family member, side by side in adjoining cells. Before I’d ever observed animals in captivity, I’d seen men in cages.
I knew my grandfather as a good man. As I grew older, I learned more.
How is it possible to love a man who’s done such harm and hurt so many?
This is the legacy of my grandfather. He taught me to respect although. To admire despite. To love regardless.