Grandpa

April 27, 2018
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We will meet again. That was the last thing he ever said to me. We will meet again.
Him holding my young freckled hand in his, old and battered ones. His bright blue eyes looking into my unexpecting green ones. He looked at me and said, “ we will meet again.” And I truly wanted to believe him, for a moment I did. When he spoke these words he was in good health, wheelchair-bound and forgetful, but healthy.
Now three years later after not once making the trip to Montana to see him one last time we receive a call.
The call. The call that says the light has been permanently drained from his eyes
The call that tells us that he is gone forever
That me and him
Will never meet again






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