Chronos,
You have my condolences. It sounds like you were lucky to have known him.
Barb
I’m so sorry. Everything you wrote could be said about me and my grandfather, who died 4 years ago. I still forget sometimes and start to call him or I’ll see something in the news and think 'oh, I can’t wait to hear what Dadu says about that. When my son laughs, I see his face and I think maybe he’s really not that far away after all.
Chronos, I’m so sorry. The same thing happened to me, and your grandfather and mine sound like two peas in a pod.
He was loyal, loving, fair- he would loan you $100K on your word and a handshake, and was never taken advantage of.
I only wish that he could have seen his beautiful great-grandson, who is named after him.
You can keep him alive in your thoughts, and especially in your actions and words. Remember that. If you loved what he stood for, stand for it.
i’m sorry to hear of your loss, chronos. may his memory be eternal.
There is NO greater tribute a man can receive.
My thoughts are with you.
Chronos, So sorry to hear of your loss, your Grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.
If only all of us could live our lives in such a way as to assure having someone say such kind words after we were gone, I think the world would be a little better place.
Chronos, I lost my grandfather last September. can’t believe it has been a year now. The finest testimoney for his person was when my husband cried at the funeral and told my grandmother,“I never knew my own grandfather and he [my grandfather] was like the grandfather I never got to know.” I always felt sorry for people that didn’t have the opportunity, through death or distance, or the means, through personality conflicts or whatever, to have the richness of a multi-generational family. I have had the great gift of having all four of my grandparents around while I was growing up and married and their presence in my life has added something otherwise irreplaceable.
Magadalene, what a beautiful poem. I’ll have to pick up a collected volume of Tennyson’s works.
Chronos, I’m very sorry to hear of your profound loss.
Please tell me more about this remarkable man. Could you bear to share a short story with us? I always hate it when I hear of a loved one lost and I know them only as a name or a relationship to another.
Your original post was very poignant and touching, but I long to know more. If it’s not too hard.
I am sorry to hear of your loss. I’ll say a prayer for you and your family.
Let my send my condolences on the death of your hero and most certainly menor. 
No one is ever ready for the death of a loved one, sudden or protracted. I lost my mother some 12 years ago and even with a few months of waiting for the inevitable, her death was hard to overcome.
Do not discount your grief and longing for your grandfather. It will take some time to overcome the lost. How long? That depends on you. Take as long as you need, but one day you’ll be left with only the wonderful memories of your grandfather.
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I think it was Pericles who said, “What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.” It sounds as if your grandfather has left a great legacy in you. Take care of yourself, Chronos, and know that you are in my thoughts and prayers.
sorry for your loss
FWIW, it sounds like he had a good life and a great family
My thoughts are with you today, Chronos. There can be no greater tribute to him than what you posted here.
My condolances, chronos. It is a tribute to his memory that you refer to him as ‘your hero’. Savor everything in life, even pain.
Guess I arrived a little late but I just wanted to add my condolences and say that as long as someone’s memore lives on in his loved ones then he will never die. Your grandfather seems like he lived life to the full and achieved plenty by which to be remembered, and thus live on.
{{{Chronos}}}
Rose
Chronos,
I don’t know what to say except that I’m sorry for your loss. Your grandfather sounds like he was a wonderful man. My condolences to you and your family.
Amy
It’s always a shock. My gradfather passed away last year at 90.
We thought we were prepared for it, since he’d had three prior heart attacks, but everytime he started telling an old tale, with gusto and wild gestures, you’d think he would last forever.
I hope you have a few pictures or letters to remember him by.
Quoth Mr Elbows
I’d love to… All I have is fragments, not really stories (I have to find a copy of the family memoirs), but here goes:
He was the father of eleven children, which I think is a story in itself. He and Grandma celebrated their 61st anniversery this year.
He was always playing a card game called “Casino” with all of the relatives… Stakes were a quarter if they won, or a haircombing if he did. He always trounced all comers, except whenever a relative visited, it was always “Oh, you remember, we settled that score back when I was here last time”. We finally figured out that he was remembering every card that had been played previously in the game, which is how he always won.
Whenever he saw me, he always said “Yakkay Much”, or something that sounds like that, to which the correct response was “Dubray”. He claimed it was a greeting in some eastern European language, which is odd, since he was Irish.
When he had a heart attack ten years ago and needed surgery, his doctor told him that he needed to watch his diet, and cut the cholesterol and saturated fats. He kept on eating pierogis and kielbasi (Gramma is German), claiming that it took 78 years to build up the first time, so he had until he was 156.
He worked in the steel mills until he retired, and always had old tools around. He took old saw blades used for testing the ingots, and ground them into knives. My hunting knife that he made is my most prized posession. He painted the handle and the sheath in multicolored stripes, so that you’d always be able to find it, if you dropped it in grass, or leaves, or mud, or snow.
He was an avid hunter, and there was always venison to be had around the house. The one time I was ever able to try bear meat, it was from his own kill.
He had the strongest grip of any man I’ve ever known… I once tried to give him a crushing handshake with a trick grip that I use, and he was still able to outsqueeze me.
After Thanksgiving dinner, or any other holiday, we would always save the bones… He would sit there and gnaw on them for the next few days, like an old hound dog.
He was always singing silly old songs to me and the other grandkids, teasing me about my moustache and asking me about that girl I left back at college (there was no such girl, and he knew it).
Is this enough to help paint a picture of him?
I leave tomorrow for the wake and funeral… I’ll be back on Sunday. Thank you all for your kind thoughts and words.