I cannot say enough about grandfathers. They are the embodiment of unconditional love. It seeps through their pores and surrounds them like a glowing aura that grandchildren can feel in their core, and a camera can capture with a snap of a shutter. It is attached permanently to their souls, stitched on with a thread woven of their years of commitment to raising their children with an utmost care and solid determination. Their love is felt on a different plane than a father's love, because it is born not only of the God-given grace of grandchildren, but also of the pride of a daughter or son turned into a mother or a father. For them it is a love unlike any they have ever experienced before, and they cannot put into words how far it reaches. They may try - "I love you more than all the rain drops that fall from the sky" - but this truly does not touch its expanse.
A grandmother's love is no less, by any means, only expected - at least from a mother's point of view - because of the common bond of carrying and birthing a child. No less, just more maternal, instinctual, primal, and therefore taken advantage of. The love of a grandfather is unwavering, all-giving, and unexplainable, even by the greatest poets, to anyone who has never been blessed enough to be a grandfather himself. I, as a mother, cannot feel it, nor begin to grasp it in my soul as they do. One day I will hopefully know what it is to be a grandmother, but I will never see through my own eyes what it is to be a grandfather. I can only see it through the lens of my camera; in the glint in their eyes, the radiance of their smile, and the warmth of their heart as they gaze at their grandchildren. I am blessed by them and the love that they give, and I thank God that they grace the lives of my children.