My Grandpa passed away on this day, three years ago. The day always makes me sad when it rolls around. I miss him. I wish he were here to hold my new baby and give me advice. I wish Greg was able to have more time with him.
I remember everything about him, but what I think about most often is that I miss the way he smelled. You know how people have distinct scents that follow them wherever they go? My Grandpa always smelled like freshly washed and pressed dress shirts. I will never be able to describe the smell, but when I close my eyes and think of him I can still smell the starch. It brings back a flood of memories, and makes me ache a little bit inside.
pictures from the funeral