I’ve been putting off writing this post for years now. A part of me felt like I wouldn’t do it justice. Or maybe I was just trying to hold on for a little bit longer.
This is my Pappou Stamati.
He was my father’s father, who lived in Greece. He was like the ocean. A calm and quiet soul at most, yet possessed a stubbornness that could crash down on you. It runs in the family. I’ll admit, when I was younger, I was a little scared of him. Until one day, he smiled at me and his bright blue eyes glistened. He called me his “pikoulo”, like a piccolo. He was so full of love for his family. And to us? Well, he was our Superman.
He passed away a few years ago. He was 86 years old and strong as ever. He practically lived in the sea, swimming every day, hunting for octopus and treasures of the underwater world. He collected things. A lot of things. Which meant after he left us, we were still surrounded by him.
He had everything. A shed filled with any tool you could imagine. Scraps of wood, pieces of metal. Seashells and rocks. Half-finished knick-knacks he spent his days creating. Gifts for us, labeled with our names—which he never got to finish. This hit me the hardest.
But one thing that really touched me, was an old camera my little cousin found in our grandfather’s shed. Just a regular old disposable camera with film. I mean, when was the last time you even saw one of those things? We had no idea if it even worked, but my cousin had a great idea.
He decided to take the camera, which already had a few shots taken on it, and use it for the rest of our time in Greece. We were there for the funeral, and it was the first time our entire family, cousins and all, were together. The only one missing, was Pappou.
We had no idea if this camera even worked, or if the film had gone bad after all this time sitting in that drawer in the shed. But we took pictures anyway and hoped for the best. What I wanted to see most, were those first few photos on the film—the last things my grandfather had seen and photographed himself.
When we got back home to NY, my cousin took the camera to get developed. This is what we found:
The first picture is of my grandfather in some video store. I have no idea where he is or who took the photo.
The 2nd, 3rd, and 4th pictures are of my grandfather’s motorcycle, complete with his homemade storage container on the back. Just one of his many “patendes”, as we called them—or inventions.
The 5th and 6th photos are of an abandoned ship that occupies a beach just a few miles away from where he lived.
The 7th photo was his bedroom. See that light bulb on the fireplace attached to a sink faucet? He built that too. The house was filled with his “patendes”.
The rest of the photos are the ones we took while we were in Greece. They’re photos of my cousins, of my grandmother, my father, my brothers, my aunts and uncles. Family. Family that hadn’t been in the same room, or even the same country, for at least a decade.
I’d like to think this roll of film contained the things my grandfather loved most. His family, his home, his motorcycle, and the sea.
I love you and miss you every day, pappou.
This is just the first of many posts about my grandfather. One day, someone will write a book about him.