I'm torn all over the place today. In a perfect world, I would have blogged at 12:30 and been out in Virginia Beach visiting my grandpa at the nursing home right now, feeding him chocolate and spoonfuls of slurpee. I'd then be writing in his memory book for the first time, alongside the entries my other family members have penned over the last few months. My dad's dad. Broadcaster, artist, crossword enthusiast, lover of the Jazz and the Blues. Possessor of one of my all-time favorite laughs, boomingly low and full of gravel and oatmeal. In a perfect world debilitating strokes don't happen. You don't get dropped at your nursing home and break your hip, which then refuses to heal and instead causes constant pain and saps your hope of ever walking again. In this perfect world, the hospital wouldn't lose your teeth, sabotaging your already thinly spread sense of pride. But this world is imperfect and even the strong can only hold on for so long. Birds are not meant to be caged. I love you grandpa.
Listen:Ida - Surely Gone
[from Lover's Prayers