This one's for Bill.

The world lost a great man this week.


My granddad was the sweetest man I've ever known. He spoiled us like there was no tomorrow. He told my grandma how beautiful she was at least once an hour. He never missed an opportunity to let us know how much he loved his family and how proud he was of each of our accomplishments.

"Death" is such a harsh and definitive word, and I guess that's why there are so many euphemisms for it. I feel very fortunate to have gotten through nearly 25 years of my life without having to deal with the loss of a loved one firsthand. And even in this loss, I have been fortunate still. My family and I were given a few years to start preparing ourselves (if Alzheimer's does anything "considerate," it's to give you time), and more recently, a few weeks to accept death as an inevitable reality. The whole time, my grandma stayed by her husband's side day in and day out. My dad drove two hours each direction so many weekends over the past two years—often more than once in a week. It is inspiring to see the strength that comes out of love, and how it comes without any hesitation.

Even though it is difficult to fully understand the idea of someone you love no longer being here to see face-to-face, there is peace in knowing that his suffering is over.