Pop's a-fightin'
My grandfather thinks bullets are being shot at him by people's shins. His mind is completely gone. He fought with people who tried to help him change out of soiled underwear. The brilliant electrical engineer is no more... His mind is just...gone. In July my mother's father (who we call Grandaddy) - yes spelled wrong on purpose - died from a
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I recently lost mine (i.e. he died, he didn't get trapped down the sofa or anything like that). In an odd way, even though he's gone, I'm glad that he went in his prime, when he was still strong. My lasting memories will be of him in that way.
It must be hard to see your grandaddy like that. I hope everything works out okay.
There's a lot to be said for a life cut short by drink and drugs, eh?
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