LittleJade
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2007
- Posts
- 11,030
you just have to let your fingers purge...
My grandfather passed away today. He was 95 years old, and his lungs filled up with fluid, overnight. He died just before noon... and my aunt was 15 minutes too late to be with him when it happened.
Once upon a time, the man was brilliant... he spoke 6 languages, had an IQ of 184, had a semi-photographic memory, had a brilliant mind for business and politics, and was an avid debator. He was stubborn and fiery and kind and strict and said what he thought, always. He collected stamps and coins and wonderful old books, and Delft Blue items, and antiques passed down through his family. He hated garlic, convinced it was what caused his brother's early death. He used to wag his finger in your face if you were going to eat sugary treats... he was diabetic, and was jealous, and would try to playfully guilt you out of eating it... and then give you one on a plate of your own, with a silver fork...
About five years ago... I think... he had five heart attacks in one week, caused by sugar imbalances, and a couple other things... and that was the beginning of his fading. He recovered, physically, but felt that the joy had been taken out of his life- he was no longer allowed to drink or smoke his pipe, and he had to behave in certain ways. And then his mind started to go- he had severe dementia by the end. For the last four years, he's called me by my mother's name, and has called my brother by HIS brother's name (the resemblance to my great-uncle was terrifying, when my great-uncle was young... they are like mirror images, separated by 80 years). Some days he couldn't recognize people as PEOPLE.. they were figments of his imagination...
But I'll never forget the man he was... pounding his fist on the dinnertable during Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, screaming about politics, while the other men of the family joined in, and then women buried their giggles behind cloth napkins, or in their wine glasses. I'll never forget the fire in his blue eyes when he started to talk about his hobbies, or when you played a game of chess with him. I'll never forget that beautiful smell of pipe tobacco and port that lingered in his living room and on his clothes... he was a truly beautiful person... and THAT is the person that I will miss.
I love you Opa... and you're home now. Your suffering is over.
My grandfather passed away today. He was 95 years old, and his lungs filled up with fluid, overnight. He died just before noon... and my aunt was 15 minutes too late to be with him when it happened.
Once upon a time, the man was brilliant... he spoke 6 languages, had an IQ of 184, had a semi-photographic memory, had a brilliant mind for business and politics, and was an avid debator. He was stubborn and fiery and kind and strict and said what he thought, always. He collected stamps and coins and wonderful old books, and Delft Blue items, and antiques passed down through his family. He hated garlic, convinced it was what caused his brother's early death. He used to wag his finger in your face if you were going to eat sugary treats... he was diabetic, and was jealous, and would try to playfully guilt you out of eating it... and then give you one on a plate of your own, with a silver fork...
About five years ago... I think... he had five heart attacks in one week, caused by sugar imbalances, and a couple other things... and that was the beginning of his fading. He recovered, physically, but felt that the joy had been taken out of his life- he was no longer allowed to drink or smoke his pipe, and he had to behave in certain ways. And then his mind started to go- he had severe dementia by the end. For the last four years, he's called me by my mother's name, and has called my brother by HIS brother's name (the resemblance to my great-uncle was terrifying, when my great-uncle was young... they are like mirror images, separated by 80 years). Some days he couldn't recognize people as PEOPLE.. they were figments of his imagination...
But I'll never forget the man he was... pounding his fist on the dinnertable during Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, screaming about politics, while the other men of the family joined in, and then women buried their giggles behind cloth napkins, or in their wine glasses. I'll never forget the fire in his blue eyes when he started to talk about his hobbies, or when you played a game of chess with him. I'll never forget that beautiful smell of pipe tobacco and port that lingered in his living room and on his clothes... he was a truly beautiful person... and THAT is the person that I will miss.
I love you Opa... and you're home now. Your suffering is over.
it is appreciated ..
