Defining poignant

I ask my son what he wants to be when he grows up. He casually tells me he wants to be a "movie maker." A discussion ensues as to why. It's a nice discussion. Then, without asking, he tells me about a question his after-school 'teacher' asked the class that day.

She asked, "If you could wish for anything to happen, what would it be?"

"And what did you say?" I asked him.

"For my grampa to still be alive."

My dad died at the age of 50, three years before my son was born. He's only heard stories and seen pictures of him. So to hear -- with me nowhere around and absolutely no prompting -- that his one wish would be to meet his grampa, it tore me up inside. But through that sorrow, a tinge of happiness struck that I had been successful - I've kept his memory alive.

That's something I need on days, and in months, like these. Thank God for children.