So yeah, the comic is not gonna happen this week. It's half-finished, but I've been out of town for my grandpa's funeral. Just got back in last night, and today we had to make the trek to my in-laws' to pick up my critters. Was supposed to work tonight, but I just... couldn't.
My grandfather was a helluva man. He died on Thanksgiving. I'm still trying to break out of the feeling of shock that he's gone... six days later.
It should be weird to not expect your grandfather to die at some point, but my grandpa was more than just a man; he was the personification of an elemental force... specifically the element of rock. He was quiet, but strong and imposing, yet he knew when to speak his mind and impart wisdom. And you could rest assured that wisdom would be sound.
For most of my life I was intimidated by him, despite him never, ever being anything but kind to me. Him being the epitome of strength and manhood (devoted father and husband, farmer, tractor-builder, truck-driver...), I always felt very small and insignifigant around him. That said, I am short and sorely lacking in the testosterone department, so that certainly didn't help.
Despite his strength and presence, the man had a kind heart and emitted an air of happiness. His laughter, I think, I will remember most of all. My heart aches right now just thinking about it. I know that I won't be the only one to miss his laugh most of all.
I could carry on and on about him. I fancy myself a pretty good writer, and I don't think I will do his memory any justice by trying to encaspulate it in a blog.
I'll miss you, Papa.
My grandfather was a helluva man. He died on Thanksgiving. I'm still trying to break out of the feeling of shock that he's gone... six days later.
It should be weird to not expect your grandfather to die at some point, but my grandpa was more than just a man; he was the personification of an elemental force... specifically the element of rock. He was quiet, but strong and imposing, yet he knew when to speak his mind and impart wisdom. And you could rest assured that wisdom would be sound.
For most of my life I was intimidated by him, despite him never, ever being anything but kind to me. Him being the epitome of strength and manhood (devoted father and husband, farmer, tractor-builder, truck-driver...), I always felt very small and insignifigant around him. That said, I am short and sorely lacking in the testosterone department, so that certainly didn't help.
Despite his strength and presence, the man had a kind heart and emitted an air of happiness. His laughter, I think, I will remember most of all. My heart aches right now just thinking about it. I know that I won't be the only one to miss his laugh most of all.
I could carry on and on about him. I fancy myself a pretty good writer, and I don't think I will do his memory any justice by trying to encaspulate it in a blog.
I'll miss you, Papa.
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