A different kind of hurting than I usually write about.

I don't really know what I'm saying here, I just needed to write about this.

As I sit here "working", my grandfather lay dying in LA. I never really knew my dad's dad. I remember my mom taking us to visit him occasionally when I was young, but I never really got to know him. Him and my dad never got along, so we weren't that close to him. In the past several years, they have made an effort to mend their relationship, and I've gotten to visit with Granddaddy a few times and see him at Christmas and Thanksgiving. But I don't really know him. What will I tell my kids about their great-grandfather? I know he liked to fish, he liked houseboats, he liked woodworking, and he drove Dodge trucks like their grandfather. But I don't really know any stories about him. Was he in the Army? I think so, that would be a good story to share, if I knew it to share.

My dad and I will do better. My children will know their grandparents and their family's history.

He will be my last grandparent to go. I'll soon be "one generation's length away from fighting life out on my own."-John Mayer