It would appear that my grandfather’s time on this earth is about to come to a close.
I’m sad, of course, but I’m also thankful, as he’s been not particularly happy with life as we know it for the last several years. I’m a big fan of making sure what needs saying has been said, and with Gramps, that happened a long time ago. I’m sorry to hear he’s passing, and I will be sad. As I write this, I can think about a lot of things that he did and meant to me.
Gramps took me around on his candy sales route, and bought me comic books. It’s partially because of him that I’m such a comic book freak. I also credit comics with teaching me to read (well, comics and my mom’s insistence that we read chapterbooks early).
Gramps was an artist, and loved to draw Tarzan. He was no good at feet, so Tarzan always stood in the tall grass.
Gramps was a weightlifter, and I used to love going with him out to the garage, to his set of weights. I’m sure he must’ve hated it, but he was really gracious about such things. The bench was this weird beige leatherette stuff.
Gramps used to take all the kids in the neighborhood to get ice cream. Back when it was okay to pile a car full of kids and they’d bounce around like popcorn in the backseats.
He had all kinds of jokes he’d repeat as if we’d never heard of them. Later in life, he told the same stories over and over and over.
He had naturally brown hair until late into his 70s.
There are probably a million other facts.
Timing-wise, this is marginally unfortunate, but is there ever a time that it’s convenient to die? I don’t think so. Note to the Lord: I’d rather not die for a few years more, okay?
Yet another reason for my posting to be a bit sparse.
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