It’s odd to think I was going to write this to tell you that my grandfather was pulling through his sickness. For those who don’t know my grandfather had MRSA. Think of it as the gremlin version of a staff infection. 

          Two weeks ago I got to see my grandfather. He didn’t look great, but from what I was told he was doing far better than the past couple of weeks. It felt like a cinematic moment, three generations collected in a hospital room the two younger at the side of the elder. The elder man whispers things to the son closest to him. Though it was sad to see my grandfather in that state looking back on it, it was a sacred moment. 

           As of last night my grandfather passed. I’m not sure that the his passing has fully sunk in, I feel like when I see and talk with family it will. I know most who see this don’t know who he was. If you have seen virtuous things in my life then you at least know what he stood for. I love my grandfather, and feel blessed to share his name, I can only hope to leave it as untarnished as him.