Early March in Syracuse is still the middle of winter. After long dark nights of blizzards dominating the air, layers of white glowing snow rest on the ground barely touching the street while the breath of the Earth slowly moves around playing with the corners of people’s hair. 

It was this day a line of cars followed one after the other through the once prominent now deprecating, crumbling town of Syracuse made up of quiet old Irish business owners slowly rising to remove their baseball caps when they saw the line. We slowly drove on the long winding roads stretching into the white pine forest of my ancestors. Silently, we left the humming cars to enter the frozen gates of a brick walled cemetery.

My father pulled me in as we walked past the tall stone statues of St.Michael. He was clear and efficient with how he spoke, it was as if he was working a job.

“When you’re done…..go to your grandmother and walk her down the aisle to see him. No one else is coming up with her, just you, and watch out for the ice on the ground while you walk.”

I walked with my brothers and a priest to the hearse. Standing straight with locked eyes, I opened the hearse while others found their seats.

“Grab with one hand, face forward gentlemen.” The old priest said. “Yes, just like that. Don’t look people in the eyes, you'll drop it. Just walk over there and place the casket on that spot then you may stand aside.”

My brothers and I walked down the aisle surrounded by classmates, family, friends, coworkers, people I didn’t even know, or maybe didn’t remember. I kept my eyes straight but made sure I didn’t slip on the ice beneath my feet. I was emotionless and devoid of expression, at least on the outside. I would not drop my grandfather even if it meant I’d turn to stone. Slowly but surely we reached his grave and laid him gently down, I quickly turned and walked back to my grandmother patiently waiting with two flowers in her hand.

We locked arms. “You know Lid always talked about flowers.” She whispered. “He got you some when you were born, you know, and when you turned ten. I thought it was silly getting you flowers, boys that age don’t usually like them. He always went on about how we had to teach you boys that flowers aren’t just for romance, or prom or….funerals even. I’m pretty sure he did that after he saw how much it affected your dad when mine and Lid’s parents passed. You have to give flowers to get them, I liked to say. It wasn’t your dad’s fault he never was never taught about those things.”

“I remember those roses, I was so mad he didn’t get me toy trucks like he used to.”

“I don’t think he really understood you were too young to get it. Maybe you’ll understand now.”

I thought back to that day. It was a few days after my tenth birthday when me and Lid were on our back porch talking. The roses were put in a vase between us by my mom.

“I know roses aren’t cool.” He said, staring at them. “You have to understand Joe, roses aren’t just for girls, and they aren’t meant just for romance. Your friends will need roses some day, I don’t know when, most won’t even know they need them. But you’ve gotta figure it out, get them roses like I got you. You understand? Even if they’ve never gotten you roses.”

He looked at me with determination, a side that usually wasn’t present with his usual calm and joking personality. 

“Lid, why will my friends need flowers?”

“Well….flowers can be bigger than words at the right moment. They make people happy. You get it?”

“I think.”

“Just, remember you’ve gotta give flowers to get them. Promise to remember that, and I’ll let you pick out a Hess truck.”

“I promise Lid.”

But my eyes snapped back to the ice, keeping my grandmother stable. I tightened my arm around hers as we stepped onto the platform where Lid was laying down. He looked gray, as if a chunk of him was missing or as if he still needed something on Earth. My grandmother took out her flower and put it in his hand carefully, making sure he held it to his heart.

“I love you and will love you forever.” 

With that final goodbye she kissed his forehead turning him a shade brighter. She turned to me and put the other flower in my hand. Without words exchanged I took it and placed the red rose in the same hand on my grandfather. Words became abstract and inferior to that moment. I knew if I really tried to form words to say goodbye they wouldn't be of any world language, just grunts if you could call it that. I received knowledge of a man who was now but a memory and discovered a strange truth. I am a conduit of teachings that will pass to my children and to theirs. My actions serve a higher purpose than just my own conscience, my actions serve the generations to come.

As we began to leave him to rest I saw his color come back to the man he once was. My grandfather. I was given a lesson years and years ago by a man much more intelligent and wise than I was. Although I did not understand it at the time, it was not something that could be written and learned by a piece of paper. It was something that had to be inherited by a position that I now possessed. I love my grandfather, maybe the first time I’ve said it since I came to middle school. I love him, and I will love him forever.