This picture of me and my grandfather still kinda chokes me up. Couple weeks ago, we had to bury him. I helped carry the casket, I got up and said some words while kept looking at him. It was tough. But surprisingly, some said they were proud of me for doing that. I didn’t expect that.
I did my usual thing, making folks laugh. Talked about his road rage and those times he drove me around while flipping people off. Pops was a G, had a gun in the compartment and another in the trunk and always had a cig in his mouth. He told his stories here and there and I learned from him. But as it often goes, people never know how much you appreciate them until after they’re gone.