Stormy Weather

I will always remember my Grandfather singing Stormy Weather. So maybe it's fitting that it rained on me the whole trip up to KC and all the way back until the last hour.

My grandfather was a pipe fitter and a union man and in 1937 he made .30 an hour and was thrilled to get that much. My grandfather wrote poetry for the family, showed me how to attempt a curve ball, and taught me the words to a few standards. The best caramels I ever tasted were made by my grandfather (God knows how many calories they had) he made a mean meatball as well. At 65 my Grandfather suffered his second heart attack, and promptly quit smoking. He went on to live to 97. Not bad at all, he lived on his own terms until his final week, not bad either. He came a long way from the one room school house where he started.

Carry that weight.

On Tuesday we laid my Grandfather to rest. My brother and I were pall bearers, and we did our best to look strong. Two years ago my Grandfather wrote some notes about his life and didn't want us to read it until after he passed. When the minister read some of these notes we all lost it. He wrote about meeting my Grandmother the pain he felt when she passed in 1997, and how he wouldn't change a thing. Not many dry eyes at that point.

I remember when my father died, it was my grandfather who gave me the most comforting words and reassurance.

Thanks for all your kind words and I regret that I've been a poor correspondent in the last few days but we have been very busy.

More later.

R