My grandfather Bup just passed away, 3 weeks shy of his 93rd birthday. I've been semi-prepared for this for about a year and very prepared for the past 2 weeks. When my brother and I went up to NH for Labor Day, we visited him and watched the Red Sox score 8 runs in one inning before saying what we probably knew would be our last goodbye. Despite his memory loss, he was charming and self-effacing, just like every time I saw him. 

He was raised as a member of the Salvation Army, attended school through 8th grade, went off to war only for the Navy to realize that he wasn't an American citizen. So he was naturalized as an American in Trinidad and sent back to do Shore Patrol. Following the war he married his childhood sweetheart and became an iron worker. He built bridges and skyscrapers. He never drank or smoked. He always insisted on giving my parents 50 cents for the toll whenever we went over for dinner. He steadfastly took care of my cousin for 30 years, and later on my grandmother when she began to lose her memory. And when she died almost 8 years ago, he visibly lost a piece of his soul. He was an incredibly decent, loving husband, father and grandfather and I'll miss him terribly. I'll also nurture those parts of him that were passed down to me. The steadfastness, the kindness, the devotion. I'll try to be less cynical, less judgmental and less afraid. And aim to emulate my grandfather, who built bridges.