A Perfect Man

He was not
A perfect man.
I would not
Lie to you
And say he was.

He was a man
As imperfect as the next.
He was a man
Who understood the value
Of hard work and
The rewards of hard work.

He was a man
Who grabbed the opportunities
That life presented him
And took advantage of them,
Never looking back
Always looking forward.

He was a man
Who saw this island change
From one of sugar cane and grounds
To one of hotels and commerce.
From one of donkey carts
And motor bikes
To one of trucks
And mini vans.

He was not
A perfect father.
He did not cuddle
Or shower his children
With praise,
But he showed them
How to work hard,
How to aim beyond the moon
And reach for the stars.

He was a man,
Who took pride
In the success
Of his children,
Wanting them to be
More educated,
More well read,
More well spoken
Than him.

He was a man
Who provided
For his family.
He provided
Shelter,
Food,
And the knowledge
And desire
To surpass what
He, himself, had achieved in life.

No, he was not a perfect man,
But there is a small part
In me that believes
That God does not take
Imperfect people.

It is when we have achieved
Perfection,
It is when we have learned
All that we are here to learn
That God takes us home.

He may not have been
A perfect man,
But in death,
He achieved perfection.

Today, my grandfather is being laid to rest. This is the poem I am reading during the funeral service.