~* Peace *~

My father had four grandsons.

Has.

[caption id="attachment_14519" align="aligncenter" width="500"] We held the baptism of my youngest son at home. At that point, we already knew my father would not be there for the following celebrations of his little guys, so it was very important for me that he held my baby throughout at least this one.
So my little Luca was baptised in the arms of his very proud granddad.
He knew he was in good hands. Didn't cry for a second.[/caption]

Although it's been three years since my father left us, his spirit is still so alive and present in the lives of his four little guys.One of the many, many seeds he planted in their hearts, was his unconformist zest for life.

Children, who are so free from self-imposed boundaries, always found a kindred sprit in him.

My dad lived in Zambia, Switzerland, Saudi Arabia... In the Saudis, it was a sign of trust between men to hold hands. So every morning, while inspecting the work beign progressed, my dad walked the site hand in hand with the local sheikh. In Siavonga, before going to the bank, we went fishing. By handing over a fresh fish to a bankteller - inlands - you could get your money from the bank. Otherwise, not so likely.

[caption id="attachment_14522" align="aligncenter" width="500"] Taken in the baptisim six years ago.. In addition to his own grandkids, all the children on our street adored my dad. When he'd drive home from work on his bike, the neighbourhood kids would come to ask my mother if Pappa would be allowed to come out and play with them.
A real original, he truly was.[/caption]  

A couple of weeks' ago, my childrens' school had celebrated Peace Day, the Ahtisaari Day, in a beautiful way. White doves drawn everywhere, little plays, songs, children of all colors and backgrounds coming together.

All those peace signs would have made Lennon proud.

"Maman, do you know how we know they celebrate Peace Day in heaven as well?, my oldest son asked when he came home.

My guesses were as boring as they were conventional.

So he infromed me. All the four grandsons, now aged 6-8, had cut, glued and scothched together a peace sign, and hidden it in a secret place. I think my sister was the only one who precisely knew the whereabouts of this hidingplace.

And the next time they checked, Pappa - as we all call my dad - had come to take the sign to heaven with him.

Once and again, my children - and their cousins! - managed to reinforced my faith in love. And life.

With children like these, what else can we have but hope?

~*♥*~