My grandfather died this morning. He had a heart attack on Friday and was apparently having chest pains as early as Wednesday. He had just turned 75 in January.
Dad took a flight out to see him. He was already going to see his family in England in March so he just moved up the fare. I feel for him because he was looking forward to seeing a Blackpool football match with his dad again. (Go 'Pool!)
I never got to know him as well as I should have. I feel terrible about that right now. He lived in England. I lived in America. I think I actually saw him only about a dozen times. The last time I got to see him was at my sister Sarah's wedding.
He was my granddad. You never met a nicer man your whole life. If I am half the man he was, then I am lucky.
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