My grandpa passed this afternoon, unexpectedly. After 15 years of strokes, falls, and painful dialysis, he slipped off in his sleep, not hurting, and having had a good breakfast. He’s not broken anymore. He’s not hooked up to machines.
I didn’t know him too well. I was young when his health started failing. But every time he saw me, after I came home from living in New York, he would tell me a vivid story about being there in the fifties, and the night was so hot that everybody was sleeping out on the fire escapes.
He was a man who I dearly wished could’ve had a better life. Our consolation is that he’s finally not in pain. I wish I could’ve said goodbye, but I’ll settle for that. He’s not in pain.