When my Grandfather passed away in April,
I was down there with him,
Making dinner for the two of us,
We'd watch jeopardy and the news,
While eating a Drumstick ice cream.
Whilst driving him to the doctors or shuffleboard league,
He'd tell me tales of when he was in the military,
And all the various hijinks him and his lifelong friend P.E. would get into.
He also had some last minute advice when he elected to be moved into hospice.

It was just a little over two years since my Grandmother passed,
When Grandpa decided to go to the next great adventure

He had some words that he was very sure couldn't wait.
I talked with him for hours that night,
Until he finally nodded off.
My sister and mother arrived the next morning,
And I left on a flight back to Ohio by noon.
We talked that morning,
For what he knew would be the last time.
He thought it would be best for me to head back up to Ohio.
He didn't want me to see him get any weaker.
He told me to live my life with as few regrets as possible, and that he loved me.

That was always a big thing for him.
He always said he couldn't ever remember his father ever telling him he loved him,
And that he tried to tell his kids and grandkids how much he loved them.
He would always be aware of what sports season was currently happening for his grandchildren,
And what their placing was.

He would get into these fits of laughter when he was trying to explain to something finny,
Where he couldn't even get any words out,
He'd be giggling too hard.

He was one of those people that when he was born,
God went and broke the mould.

Of the things I inherited, one of them was a typewriter.
Oddly enough,
It was about as technically advanced as he got,
Besides using the computer to play solitaire.
I remember when we'd go and visit in the summers,
On weeklong trips,
And I'd spend as much time as I could on that typewriter.
I'd start out with elaborate visions of a great novel or screenplay,
But by week's end they'd be short stories that were of ok quality for whatever age I'd be at the time.
What I never thought about is what happened to them when my family would  go back to Ohio,
I never thought my Grandpa would ever read them,
Let alone keep them.
So imagine my surprise when I come across a box labeled stories.

I miss you Grandpa