αντίο και ευχαριστίες

The holiday weekend has been a little different than I had originally anticipated so far. Early on Saturday morning, my grandpa died. He was my dad's father, Jack - the source of my Greek heritage. I have to add that it was not a surprise ... he had been sick for awhile, and for the last month or so was on dialysis a few times a week, having trouble breathing due to congestive heart failure, and his cancer of the bladder had spread. But it's still something of a shock when it finally happens. He was 88 years old.

I was probably closer to my mom's parents growing up, but we lived in the same town as both sets of grandparents and I saw them all frequently. I like to think I got my sense of sarcasm equally from both grandfathers - they were friends, having gone to school together. Jack married my grandma, Margaret, in 1939, and they had six children. My dad was the second. Jack worked for over 40 years at the American Brass, raised his kids, hung out at Tosca's on Friday evenings with his work buddies, went to the Catholic church every Sunday. It wasn't an incredibly exciting life, but it was a good life. And as the phone keeps ringing, I'm starting to understand just how many lives a guy who lived a good, non-exciting life managed to touch.


Margaret and Jack on their wedding day, May 6, 1939