My grandpa was easy to be around.
That sounds like a small thing until you realize how rare it is.
He never moved too fast or spoke too loud. His kindness was like a warm field of energy that surrounded him and enveloped you.
As a child, I didn't have a word for it.
I remember him sitting at the upright piano playing songs while grandkids gathered around him. “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?" was one of our favorites. We'd sing along joyfully, “…I do hope that doggie’s for sale…”
At Christmas, when Grandpa picked up a guitar, harmonica or accordion, everyone knew the singing was about to begin. Lyrics sheets were passed around since nobody knew more than one verse of any song. He always sat on the end, never in the middle, and he softly tapped both feet as he played. I’d watch him looking out around the room, taking in the joy of the moment.
That was his way.
Whether he was playing music, sharing cookies, delivering Meals on Wheels, going to the nursing home to play “for the old people” (who were all younger than him), or simply sitting in his chair listening, he gave his full attention.
He was present.
He never seemed to be rushing toward the next thing. When you spoke, he listened. Really listened. He found humor and lightness in simple moments.
He would turn up his hearing aids and lean in.
"Ohhhh."
His eyes would brighten.
"Is that right?"
His eyebrows would rise.
"Oh, okay."
These were simple responses. But they carried something many of us are hungry for: the feeling that what we are saying matters. That we are safe to say what is on our heart.
Today, we talk a lot about communication. We talk about influence, leadership and connection. But maybe all of those start with presence.
When I think about him now, I don't just remember the songs he played or the stories he told.
What I remember most is how it felt to sit in a room with him. Calm. Safe. Seen.
His most lasting gift wasn't music, although it too remains. His truest gift was making people feel like they mattered. Every adult and child — family, friend or stranger — felt this way in his presence.
And in a world that is increasingly distracted, that may be one of the greatest gifts a person can give.