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.