Bye, Grampa
This morning my grandfather passed away. I have mixed feelings about this. I loved him dearly and he was a great man, but he was suffering. About 2 years ago he had a stroke and went rom living independently, driving and doing all sorts of other things to living in a nursing home, half paralized. He couldn't do anything on his own. When I Think of him I remember the 85 year old man who was forced to retire from work, and hated it. I remember growing up living across the street from him and going to visit everyday, and how he used to call me "putsy" and yell at me not to "monkey" with things. He loved being my grampa... when I was little he used to take me with him on Saturday mornings to run errands, and he used to fry me an egg when we got back. I only ate eggs he fried, because they were perfectly round... thought it was a special talent, and he let me think that... but really he just a had a very small, round cast iron frying pan. I guess I have always been quirky like that. He was always worried about me and my mom and alway made sure we had everything we needed. When I grew up and had my own kids, he continued with the same. He loved baseball, and would always let me watch with him, even though I never really liked it until recently. I would spend afternoons listening to the game on the radio with him in the nursing home. He used to yell and swear and call the umpires hateful jewish names when things didn't go his way. He was married to my memere for 54 years, she died about 7 years ago. He went to her grave every day until he got sick, and I know that he missed her. I don't know how I am going to tell my kids, but it won't be easy. I haven't cried yet, but I am sure I will, when it hits me... when I least expect it and most likely when it is extremely innappropriate. That's how I have been lately. Kind of numb.