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Monday, March 14, 2005






I woke up Saturday morning to the phone ringing and decided to let someone else answer since it's never for me. Dad ended up being the one to pick up the phone and it turned out it was his mom. She wanted to let him know that his father had taken a turn for the worse.

He's had at least 1 stroke and moved into a nursing home of sorts with my grandmother some years back but we didn't know about the things that had gone down just recently. Apparently he'd got a pneumonia, was taken to the hospital to get antibiotics (which didn't bite) and the doctor gently tried to make grandma see that there might not be much time left in this world for him. She must've been in shock or something because it wasn't until grandpa began coughing up blood that she decided to call dad.

And all this information came just a little bit too late. Even though dad got straight into the car after the phone call, his father died while he was driving to him.


Grandpa was a quiet man, kept very much to himself, but I always saw him as being very gentle and warm. It was difficult to get close to him, so whenever we visited I'd settle for sitting with him in the living room while he watched footie (soccer). It makes sense in some way that he left my life as quietly as he entered it.

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