My grandfather passed away this past weekend. He and I were very close. He was like my best friend all growing up and we had a lot of secret stories and special faces between the two of us. Some say I got my personality from him and I am a lot like him, a mini-me, if you will. Greatest compliment ever in my opinion. So his funeral was a little rough, but it really was a great celebration. He was 87, he lived a long life and he had a special impact on his tiny town as it was standing room only in his little church. I was extremely proud to be apart of the family he created. He was also known as "the candy man". He carried candy in his pockets everyday and passed it out, everyone knew it and everyone loved it. We passed out candy in baskets during the service.
He was also a crazy sports fan. He was a pitcher for the Philadelphia Athletics as a young man and never missed a chance to see/watch/go to a game of any kind. He instilled that passion into me as well. I thought it was extremely poetic that I went to my husbands baseball game the day before his service. I know he was smiling down on us all weekend and loved that my huzbie plays his favorite sport. I get goosebumps thinking about it. Would it be too much that we had the entire church singing "take me out to the ballgame" at the end of the service? Yes? Well... we did. And it was a moment I will never forget. I love you, Paps.
|my husband playing in his game this past weekend.|