My grandpa was like a wild western character to me, when I was a kid the first time we visited his house in the actual Everglades, he had a sign up that said “home of the onion pancakes,” an ode to the breakfast he cooked us as children at my grandma’s cottage that made us cry!

The man stayed married to my grandma until she passed away, and tried to survive on his own the best he could until yesterday, when at 91 years young, the g of gs of ogs passed on to be with the woman he loved.

My grandpa flew fighter pilots in the Korean War. He taught my dad his sports, who taught me mine. He built my dad’s house in Detroit that is the only one on the block still standing. He was so proud of us for fixing up our house along the river, and I like to think he’s finally here to see it.

I love you Grandpa. When I say the word, it’s you I think of. The only one there since I was born. I will miss you, and I promise to pass the torch on down to my son again someday. The patriarch of the family. Rest in peace.