In the last year, I moved from Korea back to the USA. I've spent the last six months living with my 95 year old grandfather, along with my wife and daughter. We live just over a half-mile from my parents house, so that's nice. No job yet, but that is certain to change soon. I hope.
Maple House is a nice place to live. The house was built in the 1920s, but has been heavily modified since then. It backs up on a swamp, and is one house away from the railroad track. I especially enjoy hearing the trains go by, with their clankety-clank whooosedness. We get deer, raccoons, squirrels, and my personal favorite, skunks.
Two days ago, on 3/28/11, my grandfather passed away. He had been sitting in his chair in front of the TV most of the day, where he spent his time mostly sleeping. Dad and I got him up to go to the bathroom (he'd been very unsteady on his feet for the last week), and while he was there, he kind of collapsed bonelessly to the floor. We got a pillow under his head and called 911, but it was too late. He was dead by the time they arrived.
So the last day or so has been funeral-arranging stuff. Maple house feels quiet and empty with him gone. Too quiet, too empty, if you know what I mean. I miss hearing the sound of him arranging and counting his coins on the table. But that's life, you know? And he had a long and full life, and died surrounded by family in his own home.
Grandpa Leo, I miss you.
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