The preamble to this ragged post: it’s difficult to take your memory of a loved one and sync it with the image of a rumpled person in a hospital bed. Cognitively dissonant to the point of tears.

I’ve been trying off and on again this week to complete a post about my grandfather. But everything seems inadequate.

All I really want to say is that the man was a study in courtesy and selflessness. Come to our home, and he would assault you with hospitality. He cared little for life’s frills and let you know it. The man deserved to live to 95, and be able to dance the foxtrot all the way there. Nearly every element in me that is good and righteous and worthy of another person’s love comes directly from him.

I am a little lost and wobbly. I know I know, re-orientation here would be a return to perspective. Change is a constant… feeling of the missing limb, the forgotten travel item. Sleep well, ah-gung.

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