When you read an obituary and see that the deceased passed away at the age of ninety, it’s safe to say that one thought crosses your mind at some point during the reading: “Ninety years old? That’s a long, full life.”
And so it is for Grandpa, Interrupted, who checked out of this hotel we call Life early Friday morning. This checkout, while not unexpected, has left a glaring vacancy in our heretofore-full lives.
When you lose someone you knew for fifty-eight years, it sort of leaves a hole. This morning I decided to search through MI to see what was there, and while I suspect this is not an exhaustive list, I guarantee it will be exhausting to read. It fills the hole (or attempts to, at least) with the only thing I have at my disposal: a bunch of words.
So, in no particular order, here’s at least some of The Best of Grandpa, Interrupted:
© E. Stocking Evans 2018