My grandfather

My grandfather died last night. He was 93 and has been living with Alzheimer's for quite a few years now. He lived a good life, worked hard and was as honest and decent a person as I've ever met. He was a good soul.

I have lots of memories of my Pop-pop, and none of them bad. I remember visiting his office and turning round and round in his office chair. I remember riding on the golf cart around the course. I remember going to see the Cass railroad. I remember him coming with my Mom to pick me up from Girl Scout camp the summer he retired. I remember his Santa Claus pants -- red and black plaid slacks he's wear every Christmas. I remember holidays and birthdays and picnics and time together as a family.

When someone close to you dies, it's natural to be sad. And I am, but not for him. I know he's in a better place, and that brings a lot of peace. But I'm sad for us and the presence of the man we'll miss.

I'll think of him every family dinner, when he would offer the grace I can literally hear him saying in my head. I'll miss him telling me that "the sheriff hadn't caught him yet" when I'd ask him how he was doing. I'll try to honor him by living the kind of honest, hard-working life that he did.

I'll miss you, Pop-pop.