Pop Pop

I started reading the Bill Clinton biography last night and the first chapter talks a lot about his father who died shortly before he was born. Something about it triggered memories of my grandfather.

My grandfather died very suddenly right after Christmas a number of years ago. With no signs or illness, he simply got up in the middle of the night, asked my grandmother to get him a glass of water and when she returned he had passed. I had given him and my grandmother a carved wooden cross that year. My grandmother put it on the bible next to him during his funeral. I don’t recall much at all from that day or the days surrounding, but I remember her saying to me that she was sorry we needed it so soon. I don’t know why that statement stuck with me, and I didn’t even remember it until I was reading this book. It’s funny how the memory works.