Granddad’s eyes lit up when speaking of possible adventures, or as he pondered, “the stories this river could tell,” while gazing thoughtfully over a Sierra stream—feet joyfully dipped in the water while panning for gold. He was always out front on a trail, exploring with excitement but always looking back and inviting you to follow along while pointing out the surrounding beauty.
Now, even more prized, is a voicemail I saved of him checking in on Barrett and me with love—alongside a few Grandfatherly pearls of wisdom. In his words, there was always an ace to keep. His infectious zest for life thankfully permeates the spirits of all his children and grandchildren, and his booming presence has been unexpectedly close and present recently.
So, Granddad, I say—rest in peace, but I’ll be seeing you.
