Thinking about my sweet pops today. It's been a year since he passed.
I think about him every day.
It may sound strange but I know he's around when I need him most just as he was when he was here. So although I'm sad I'm happier he is free.
Just a little glimpse of his amazing and full life:
In memory I hung out at his grave for a while & spruced it up with Yellow roses and flags.
Went to a late breakfast(he loved breakfast, eggs specifically and purple jam on toast), Finally Fixed some broken furniture around the house with the help of my cats, watched the Muppet Show(Of course a Swedish chef episode), said "Hhheeeello Dere" to everyone I met and thought about those amazing big hands of his.
So huge and rough from a lifetime of hard work, hard living and war. He could crush you with a lumberjack hug or a hand on the shoulder but in the same moment gently pet one of our cats.
He always over fed them, he just couldn't help it.
He wore this red CAMP sweatshirt with CAMP in blue letters Cherie Scoffield gave him until it fell apart. It was so ratty by the end but he loved it. That was his uniform when I was in high school. That sweatshirt, a beat up pair of jeans and his Navy blue cardboard shoes.
He was a fearless genius but a Iowa farm boy at heart.