This past Sunday saw the passing of my Grandpa Horn. Of course while I am heartbroken and miss him I remember that he is in a far better place one without pain and suffering.
I was just thinking a couple weeks ago about my time growing up with grandpa around. Mostly about how Pete does many of the same things. I remember snuggling up with him in his big old lazy boy and taking 40 winks instead of naps and thinking I had gotten away with something, about how he peeled my apples for me perfectly with his good old handy pocket knife that always held a place of honor next to his chair. Watching the Pink Panther, Popeye, Grape Ape and all my favorite Hanna-Barbera cartoons along with a healthy dose of westerns, where the good guy always won in the end. The high faves with in the middles, down lows and too slows. I remember the Easter eggs stuffed with quarters and quarters all over the place after he went to play cards. He was always happy and thrilled with every little accomplishment and thing that I did, even if in reality it was a horrible 7th grade band concert that could truly could have lead to the removal of music from schools due to the quality for the sake of music everywhere. Or the walking stick that I carved the bark off for him. The mushroom hunting next to the railroad tracks and the just normal conversations we had, nothing forced, nothing fake, just grandpa and his girl, together.