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.
RIP grandpa.
(via allthewrongquestions)
“I sold paper at this company for twelve years. My job was to speak to clients on the phone about quantities and types of copier paper. Even if I didn’t love every minute of it, everything I have I owe to this job. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job.”
Michael has so many pictures of his kids, he had to get two phones…with two numbers, and he pays two bills.
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