My grandfather died tonight. He was 90 and had two kinds of cancer. It wasn't a surprise. He fell asleep and fell into a coma and was gone.
We saw him in May. G won't remember him, but the girls will. I'll have to tell them tomorrow. They'll cry, because while love is complicated, they just know love as love. Such is the magic of childhood. They never had the chance to know him well, but they'll feel the impact of his loss.
They began this year with two living great-grandparents and now they have none. We had two generational layers of cushion to family terminus and now we have one. Everybody moves up the line. When one person dies we all move closer to death. It won't be fun to tell the girls tomorrow.