This past Saturday afternoon my maternal grandfather Gerald Lahr died after a fight with various ailments. He just celebrated his birthday on August 5. There had been 4-5 scares for the past six months that this was "the last time". Over the past to-three weeks I've been back and forth visiting either the hospital or the rehab place he was staying at. I had already made peace with the fact that he could pass on at any time. But when the time does come, it's still a wicked sucker punch.
Grandpa Lahr was technically my step grandfather, but after 30+ years you can really take the step out of the equation. He and his wife Virginia always treated me like one of their own grandkids, never any different from my stepsiblings. He played accordion regularly at the local Knights of Columbus Friday fish fry. Grandpa never learned how to read music; he played simply be hearing the song. I can remember him playing some of Metallica's "Enter Sandman" after hearing my brother play the song on cassette. He laughed at dirty jokes, and always told me to have a shot and a beer for him. I'll miss him a lot.
In the course of less than two years I've seen all my remaining grandparents go on to a better life. But knowing Grandpa, he'd want me to keep blogging, keep playing, keep living, and above all not work too hard.