My grandfather passed away earlier today.

I have been prepared for quite some time, since he was a very old man and I have learned to accept a world without him. Cottled and nagged by women, his wife and eight daugthers, he deserves much rest.

The hassle of security measures at the Detroit/Windsor border were a mixed blessing. This barrier kept me away from him in his narrowing days, but also kept me away from seeing him not as the proud man he was and not the frail soul he became. This evening, crossing the border for the first time after his passing I was just in the mood for an insensitive, racial-profiling, homeland security agent.
I pulled up to the interrogation booth, and answered the inital interrogatives. When I was asked why I was in Canada, I confess that I was there because my grandfather passed away. The agent offered his condolences and said that he’s in a better place after I disclosed my grandfather’s age. The agent dismissed me and I wished him a good night. Trite as this all was, a very profound thing happened. The agent quietly and almost hesitantly whispered ‘God Bless You’. As I write this it loses it’s impact, but at the moment I was moved. I’m not deeply religious. I’ve renounced the actions of the Catholic church, the pedantic musings of the religious right, and given the situations in the Middle East, I’ve resigned myself of structured religion. The hesitation in this man’s voice gave the phrase some credence. Like a fool who blurts out a declaration of love, this agent expressed sympathy for me. Those three words transcended all of my mistrust and struggle caused by structured religion. His sentiment didn’t carry along with it messages of how to live or who to isn’t worthy. I felt no malice or urge to remind him of separation of church and state. This was his wish for me, in his own voice, and surprisingly enough it spoke to me.