I was just talking with my brother about our grandfather. He lived in New York and we lived states away. It’s funny how as a child, and probably until-like yesterday-I liked to think Pa waited in his chair from one visit to the next, months in between, for me to push open the garage door and barrel down the hall to jump in his lap. His face beaming to look at me. He made his face to shine upon me every time he saw me, and I can’t think of anything, tangibly, that was a bigger blessing in my life or more peaceful, than Pa’s face shining on me.
