Yesterday we went up to Eldest Daughter’s to visit with our granddaughter and her two children. Aubrey just turned two, and Wyatt is all of six weeks old, and growing like the proverbial weed. He was 8 pounds, 4 ounces when he was born, and weighs thirteen pounds now.
Aubrey has taken quite a shine to her great-grandfather, calling him Papa, with either a British or French accent. Much emphasis on the second syllable. Pa-pah, she says. She was up on the balcony, looking down and calling him to come up to her bedroom. There are two sets of stairs, and The Squire took the front way up, which she didn’t expect, and he surprised her. “Oh, hi!” (Fancy meeting you here.) She led Pa-pah into her room, showed him her toys, made him a plastic egg sandwich, and then read him a story. Her version was much better than the book.
When we got ready to leave, her mum told her to say good-bye to “Great-grandmother”, and Aubrey blew me a kiss and said, “I love you, Gran-Mama.” It’s taken two years, but now we have “official” names!
Today, we went to a visitation for a fellow with whom both The Squire and I had worked at Equitable. We’d seen John at the reunion in June, and we both remarked that he didn’t look at all well. His wife, who had also worked at the bank, said that was one of the last good days he’d had. Within about two weeks he’d begun failing dreadfully. He had cancer, and she’d opted for a closed casket because he looked so dreadful.
He was younger than my sister and they had been married less time than we had. Life, sometimes she just isn’t fair.
Be kind to each other.
thisendoftheswamp 
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