Good Bye, Grandpa

My Grandpa Ed, at the age of 87, passed away peacefully last evening.
He was my mother's father, and the only grandfather I ever knew. My dad's father died of a heart attack when my dad was only 17.

We knew it was coming. His heart had been failing the last several months. He had been in a nursing home for several weeks, and before then, had been receiving hospice care at his home. My dad told me a few days ago that he had stopped eating solids, and his body was starting to shut down. He wasn't recognizing family as well. The last time I saw him, he thought I was my older sister. Even though we knew it was coming, it still is never easy once it happens, is it?

He and my grandma would've celebrated their 66th anniversary this November. In this day and age, that is pretty unbelievable. It's actually pretty amazing that up until now, I had three grandparents still living.

Grandpa was never the epitome of great health. My family and I seriously wondered how he kept his body going all these years. For decades, he smoked, drank, drove when he shouldn't have, chewed Copenhagen and gambled until the wee hours of the morning at the casino (driving my grandma nuts in the process.) A few years ago he passed out at a black jack table, and we're told that when he "came to" in the ambulance, he kept saying, "hit me, hit me." That still makes me chuckle.

He lived his life and did what he wanted. And hopefully now he is in a very peaceful place. That is all anyone of us can ask for.