In mourning

Obviously, the usual humor wouldn't be appropriate at this point, but I'd like to report to those who have asked that the family is doing OK.

Really, whenever someone is 94, whenever he's had a peaceful stay at the hospice, whenever his family has had a chance to say goodbye, and whenever the final decision was his to make -- passing on doesn't hit like a collision with a brick wall.

What I'm left with, at this point, is just a blank spot in my conscious, that itches and can't be scratched anymore. I didn't visit or talk to my Grandad enough, like everyone else and their grandparents, but I'm realizing how much comfort and strength I drew from the simple knowledge that he, and the part of my heritage he represents, was there, in real life. Memories will be a poor substitute.