There was this tear.

Large and wet and golden. It slid down the soft skin of his face, and just like that, it was gone. Nothing more than a little wet spot on the white cotton blanket he was wrapped in.

In the gravitational field of the spinning planet and the bright sunlight of the warm New England day, the tear fell quickly. That's just how those things happen. Quickly. But, in my mind, in my heart, and in my soul, that tear is always falling, slowly. Catching and reflecting the glistening golden sunlight. The light of our star. Shimmering as it falls. Reflecting all that is, has been, and ever will be, for me. That was the tear that my dying grandfather shed the last time I saw him. I was probably not even 5 years old. A skinny sweet little boy, just trying to climb into his Zayde's lap. I wondered about the tear. Wondered why my Zayde was so sad.

For a long time after that, I forgot about the tear, but it was always there, always falling. Waiting patiently for me. Loving me, whether I was aware of it or not.

That tear contained so much love, that it defied, and continues to defy, both time and gravity. It holds so much love, as much love as the entire sun held that day as it shone on the lush green lawn of the hospital. As much as our entire star holds today, as some other small sweet child visits their beloved grandparent for the last time. The love in that tear fills my heart. It fills me. It fills my life. It always has. The love in that tear never stops. It won't. Not even when I do.

That's my Zayde's love. Strong, gentle, sweet, and infinite. With me. Always.