This is my grandfather. He was born in 1919 and would have been 96 in November. On Sunday I sat in a hospital room holding his hand in silence.
As his chest would rise and fall I remembered when he would really laugh. His chest would jiggle and shake because the laugh would be trying to burst out of such a stoic person. The first time I saw this happen it made the joke even better.
On the counter beside his bed was a comb. He always had one in his pocket which he would often pull out run it through the front to smooth out his wave the same hair style that was all the rage when he was a young man.
His hand that I held even at the end looked big and strong. Strong from being the patriarch for his family. Strong from helping thousands of families gracefully say goodbye to loved ones. Strong from never shirking from what needed to be done. The world needs more of these kind strong hands but for today I morn the loss of his. I will miss you Grandpa and will be forever grateful.