Happy Birthday George!

Sunday marked one year that my grandfather has been dead. My mother handled it better than I expected her to. No breakdowns or tantrums. Just another day. Today would have been his 92nd birthday. Maybe because I'm working everyday about his old place, I don't feel a void with his absence. I do miss him and think about him and my grandmother a lot while I'm there. I often wonder what they would think of what's been done to the place. I'm certain my grandmother would love the new kitchen and paint job. My grandfather would like the new porch and most likely the paint job too. He really didn't like to paint too much. At times I'm certain they are watching us at work over there. I know they are happy about it. They probable wish it would go quicker like the rest of us do. I'm sure they are as excited about me finally building near their old place as I am. I can't wait for them to see it when it's done. In the mean time, I know they are watching over us. Happy Birthday George! I miss you!

(My grandfather and I called each other George for some reason. It actually confused the Hospice minister. He thought he had the wrong patients house.)