Standing and looking out the living room window, I could see the mountains. And in between the here and there was a small house, sitting alone. My grandfather’s house. I did not know him. If I met him in the street, I would not smile and say hello, for he was a stranger to me.
My mother- how she loved him! In later years, she told me how she visited him in the hospital as he lay ill with whatever stole his life from him, and us. They had a wonderful conversation, then he asked, “Now what did you say your name was?” When she told him, he turned his face to the wall and did not say another word. That was the last time she saw him. Her Daddy. His name was Wayne.
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