Last night my Grandpa (paternal) passed away. His was a real "grapes of wrath" experience. Migrating from Oklahoma to California during the depression, he settled in San Francisco. There he became an electrician and settled down to have a family. During WWII he helped build the warships for our men to sail on.
About 7 years ago he became afflicted with demensia, which rapidly took his independence, and later his dignity, from him. At last he is mercifully free from the demensia that punished his mind and the physical pains that punished his aging body (fused spinal discs, arthritis, kidney problems, and broken hips).
He is survived by his wife, five children, over 25 grandchildren, and at least 30 great grandchildren.
I spent many of my teenage years going to his house to tend to the yard, and will always remember him as a jovial man who spoke ill of few people (but boy did he have strong words for those few). He never gave up his Oklahoma roots and I never saw him without his cowboy boots on.
Goodby Grandpa, I'll miss you.