My grandpa Monroe just died yesterday. I heard about it very soon after he passed and I was surprised, despite his old age. His birthday would have been on Thanksgiving, making him 97. I can not imagine living that long. That would mean I haven't even lived 1/3 of my life yet.

He lived a good life. He married the first time at an older age, to my grandma Ruth. He adopted my dad as he was in his late teens or early twenty's (not sure when exactly) and so my dad's name changed from Gill to Marsh. My grandma Ruth died from Alzheimer's while I was on my mission. He soon remarried as to not be alone but I'm sure he regretted that because he was not happy with her. My grandpa's religious affiliation is still a mystery. I think he was born Jewish but didn't practice anything.

Now as I think of him being gone my thoughts are more sad for myself than for him. I wish I had seen him once more. He lived in Irvine, CA and I never made it down to see him. He always joked that everyone would make it to his funeral but not to see him while alive. That is so sad! He was a successful attorney and very smart. I wish I had an ounce of his intelligence. I would say he was retired but it seems like he remained active in law. I'm mostly sad for my dad. He spent many days worrying for my grandpa and I know he is and will miss him the most. I no longer have any living grandparents. My parents parents have all died. The oldest generation now is my parents'. Weird. I guess it's more likely to happen that way when you are the youngest of a large family like I am. Are they partying now, with their new and good health? I hope they are.