I lost my Pappy yesterday, 94 years old and he had never been in the hospital until two weeks ago. He still lived at home on his own with my Mother's help. This man loved his family, and was so proud of his Grandchildren. So much so that in his 90s he was climbing the bleachers to watch my nephew play football and baseball. He always loved when the littles were around, asking them to come sit on his knee, and giving them rides on his walker. He has always been there, every party, every holiday, every birthday. His snappy remarks and sarcasm were classic entertainment for the family. I always knew he loved us so much, even though he was not the type to say it. But over the last year, when I would tell him I loved him, he said it back and those were the sweetest words to hear. Not having him around will take a lot of getting used to. What gives me peace is knowing that both my Pappy and my Grana, who I lost 2 weeks ago, are in Heaven and all is well with them. I know they both lived tremendous lives and I am blessed to have had them as Grandparents.