N.H.W.

My sweet grandfather passed at 335 this morning.  He was comatose most of yesterday but managed to give me this piece of advice on Saturday night as I helped him get more comfortable in his bed.

The good looking ones will always leave you for a fresher piece of ass.

Touching.  Marry ugly.  Someone write that down.

Obviously my darling Gramps was a bit out of his head.  Because after that nugget of wisdom he got a little upset with me that I wouldn’t let him go tend to his chickens. 

He came into my life when I was ten years old and my mother started dating his son.  I instantly fell in love with that guy because he treated me like I’d always been his granddaughter.  He always wore pinstriped blue overalls and a white t-shirt while he was out working on the farm.  The outfit was complete with an old trucker hat bearing the label of a particular brand of cattle feed. 

Before he became bed bound he gave me an awesome old man sweater of his that he knew I had always admired.  I’m a little too big for it now, but you can bet your butt that I’ll be posting a photo of me wearing that Cosbyesque sweater come Christmas time.

There are a million more memories and flashes of humor that I have regarding this man.  I couldn’t possibly record them all.  I have to go buy a black dress that I’ll most likely never wear again.  I have to go hold my mother and father and let them cry.

I have to find a way to remedy my puffy eyes and I have to go be strong.

Thank you for reading.

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