A few days before Christmas, at age 98, a month before his 99th year, my grandfather left this earth. A tower of strength and a tower of wisdom and wit, the patriarch of the family.
He always asked me about running and then always said he hadn't run a step in his life. Yet he was healthy up until recently.
He wasn't a dog person, but loved his cats dearly.
So Christmas was subdued but a time for memories, all good. None bad.
Farewell Poppy. You went to God accompanied by a hundred million beautiful Christmas hymns sung by the world's children.
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