I learned that my grandfather died this afternoon of respiratory failure at the age of 93. He lived a very long and fulfilling life; I'm just sad he never took advantage of the tape recorder we gave him for his birthday a few years ago. My grandfather was full of stories, whether it be family tales or accounts of when he was a soldier during World War II. Whenever a lot of people filled the room, he would sit back and observe; I think I get that from him. Papa lived through many eras: the last few years of World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, Sputnik, Watergate, Reagonomics, the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, and thankfully, the election of President Obama. I wish Papa spoke more about his experiences during these times; he was a wonderful storyteller who always kept his audience captivated, and he was quite the charmer. Though he lived in New York for over 80 years, you could stick detect my grandfather's Boston accent (he was a native of Winthrop before his rather large family relocated to the Bronx).
I'm so glad I had the opportunity to visit him over spring break. The news of a family member's passing is always hard to accept even when you know it's bound to happen. No matter what, you're never fully prepared. I find writing about my grandfather a catharsis for dealing with his death and for reflecting on one of THE most important elements of life: FAMILY. I'm lucky to come from a tight group of hilarious, crazy, intelligent, and caring family members, but I realize that not everyone is fortunate. You don't have to have a blood family--nuclear families are just as efficient in bringing people together and forming tight bonds and strong networks of grounded interpersonal relationships. At this time, I want all of you to get up and hug someone you consider family whether you're related to this person or not. Don't take each other for granted, and always remember to enjoy the times you have together.
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