The Man After My Heart: A Love Letter to My Grandfather

The Man After My Heart: A Love Letter to My Grandfather

Some people inherit land, some inherit wealth—but I inherited something far more valuable: a legacy of love, resilience, and faith. That legacy lives in one man. The man after my heart. My grandfather.

There are no words deep enough to capture the impact of this man on my life. I owe him everything—from the roof over my head to the roots in my soul. He is the blueprint of hard work, kindness, and humility. A man carved out of resilience and wrapped in grace. He’s not just my grandfather—he’s my hero, my compass, my quiet reminder that goodness still walks this earth in human form.

Growing up under his care was like basking in gentle sunlight. I remember us tichitsokonora dzungu outside, barefoot and carefree, and the mutsvairo ladies would pass by. Grandpa would call them in without hesitation, offering food and water—no strings attached, no expectation of return. His kindness was a rhythm, a habit, a sacred practice. He taught me that real wealth is not counted in coins, but in compassion.

From his early days working at Twine Cottage to selling madhoiri in the bustling streets of Cape Town just to feed our family, Grandpa taught us the art of perseverance. He showed us what it means to be content, to work with your hands, to walk with dignity even when life gives you little.

And oh, the love story—50 years of marriage to our grandmother, a lifetime of loyalty and laughter. Through thick and thin, sickness and health, he stayed—a living vow.

He raised generations—over 40 grandchildren and great-grandchildren—each of us carrying a part of his heart. Somehow, he managed to love us all fully, without favorites, without fail. His balance, his grace, his unwavering faith in God, and his love for the land—we watched and we learned.

I see him in the small farms he cultivated in the city, giving maize to the needy without blinking. I see him in every lesson of kindness, every act of generosity that now lives in me. I hear his voice reminding me to walk the Christian path, to believe, to forgive, to serve.

And now, miles apart, I feel the gap. But just today, we spoke on the phone. His birthday is near—April 25th. He will be 94. Yes, ninety-four years of living fully, loving deeply, and giving endlessly. What a gift. What a man.

From the sleepless nights when we were sick, to the school runs, the graduation cheers—he has always been there. Steady. Strong. Present.

Like he always says, “Ndakasimba senjanji yekwaMutare.” And truly, he is.

So today, I honor him. I celebrate him. I carry his light forward.

Because behind everything I am, is the man after my heart.

—Jez