Nov. 21st, 2012


I'm... mostly numb, right now. I did a lot of my crying when I found out on the 31st that Grandpa had cancer, and then even more so a week after that when Dad went down to South Carolina and the docs told him Grandpa didn't really have much time left. I just thought maybe we'd have him until Christmas, at least.

My Grandpa was ninety-six years old. Up until three months ago, he was walking at least nine holes of golf a week, until he suddenly lost most of his strength and went to the doctor. He was highly intelligent (former English teacher), an undisputed BAMF (served in the Army in both the Pacific Theater in WWII and in Korea), and one of my personal heroes. He lived a long, amazing life.

Dad is currently in South Carolina. He was originally planning to go down this Friday to take care of more legal stuff on Grandpa's behalf, but the family friend helping Grandpa at home called at 4AM on Monday and Dad immediately got the next flight to South Carolina. He didn't quite get there in time; Grandpa passed at 8:46AM.

(I was in Torts at the time. I remember feeling... odd the entire time, but I chalked it up to a post-memo daze.

Oddly enough, Mom sorta knew before Dad, because the clock on the cable box at home froze at 8:46AM.)

Mom and Dad decided not to tell my brother and I until we got home yesterday because they didn’t want us, well, "out of it" while traveling. Mom also stopped at the BJ's in Dedham before picking me up at the train station and bought some alcohol (few bottles of wine, some spiced rum for eggnog later in the holiday season, and some Bailey's for me and Disarono for my brother), and once at home we had a few drinks in Grandpa's memory.

(I was also drinking Bailey's-laced coffee this morning. Well, more like coffee-laced Bailey's. Yeah, yeah, booze before noon, I was allowed, I think, m'kay?)

Dad will be home tomorrow. Mom and Billy have been continuously sniping at one another (it's how they show affection, an Italian mother and her only son, both thinking they know everything, bless 'em), and I called Dad to tell him he needs to get home NOW to help referee before I lose my mind. Dad laughed, the traitor.

So, it's been your average Thanksgiving. Just... a little emptier, this year.



December 2012

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