No post yesterday, and just a very short one today. It was a bit of a rough weekend around here. I’ll let my Facebook status from this afternoon sum it all up.
Sometime early this morning, my grandfather took his last, labored breath following a long battle with terminal illness. Barely a half of a heartbeat later, there was another line being cast into God’s favorite fishing hole, bobber already set. If anyone knows how to find that elusive lunker, it’s Grandpa.
Also, Lord, if you’ve got any spare, unused (possibly dilapidated) dining chairs lying around, he’s just your man.
Miss you Grandpa. Rest in the peace you’ve needed and so long deserved. Thank you for your patience, your guidance, your service to family and Country, and your love – quiet but never silent.
Grandpa was a man of few words, like so many of his generation. He served in the Navy during WWII, built a strong career in the middle and late part of the century, enjoyed working in his workshop, making furniture for the family, and truly loved fishing with Grandma in his free time. I have never, and likely will never, think of fishing without thinking of Grandpa. The two are ubiquitous in each other in my memory.
Thankfully, we saw this coming for a long time. Almost too long, such was the desire to see his suffering end. I got my chance to speak my thanks and peace to him several times over the last year and a half. I was fortunate, in that respect.
Don’t take a chance. You might not have the same opportunities to say goodbye. Tell everyone they’re special to you.
Miss you Granpda.