Night Must Fall

My (maternal) grandfather lost consciousness early last week and died last Sunday evening. I was able to be with my family for several days, including the day he died and the day after. He had Parkinson's, which four years ago led to a fall and a fractured neck, the combination of which was unfortunately insurmountable despite valiant efforts on his part and the part of professionals and family. There's certainly a lot I could say about the experience of his illness and death, but it's far less important to dwell on that than to remember his life and legacy.

My grandparents were set up on a blind date. My grandpa brought a joke book with him on their first date, presumably to serve as an icebreaker. After the date, my grandma likes to say that she thought something to the effect of (and I'm sure I'm not telling this exactly right) I'm certainly not going to marry that goofball. They were married for 64 years, and were one of the happy, healthy relationships I grew up around that formed my vision of what I wanted in my own life.

My grandpa was hard-working and intelligent. He had a PhD in mechanical engineering, and I remember how proud he was when my "little" brother also went into mechanical engineering. Of course, his other grandson is a MD, so he certainly handed down plenty of brains to go around. It's even rumored that I occasionally have my moments.

Far more important than his intellectual accomplishments, my grandpa was a kind and gentle man with a wonderfully sunny smile. He was always very young looking. I don't think I'll ever complain about my baby face again... I'll just hope that some of his other wonderful qualities are tied up in that same quarter of my genome.

I know my grandpa's legacy will be different for everyone who knew him. For me, I will think of someone with a great curiosity and desire to learn. He traveled all over the world. He painted for fun (I am fortunate enough to have some of his artwork in my home, pictures of which are interspersed with this post above). I hope that thinking of him will encourage me to indulge my curiosity and live my own life (to indulge in a cliche) to the fullest. And if I'm lucky, I'll have as many years to do it as he did.