Archives » June 6th, 2002

June 6, 2002

Pop Pop

My grandfather just died yesterday. This is one of those times when I find out how horrible I really am with words, as I try to sort through nearly twenty-six years of memories with him.

He was a WWII vet, in the Pacific onboard the USS Cowpens (more, more). He was later a railroad mechanic on Long Island, but when I knew him, he was just a retired guy that liked to drive down to the beach, find a park bench, and watch the people go about their lives. That was about it. He wasn’t one of those guys who felt that he had to “make the most” of his retirement. He felt that he had earned the right to take it easy, and he did.

Now I have to make the drive down to LA this weekend for his funeral. And I need to figure out how my grandmother is going to make it on her own. Sure, she’s strong, and most of her friends at her senior center are widows, so I know she’ll have a support group. And she won’t have the burden anymore of taking care of my grandfather in his failing health. But none of us really know how she’ll get along without “her Andy”.

And the rest of us will have to make do with our memories. Memories of going on walks just because, or of finding a nice bench to sit on while the world swirls around us.

Goodbye, Pop-Pop.

Once a week.

Once a week. I need to get on myself at least once a week to write here.