Frozen forever in time are memories of wire rimmed glasses and a grey knit vest that almost always had chocolate covered raisins in the left pocket. Grandpapa always read to me. I'd curl up beside him and listen, spellbound. I'd read until his eyes closed and his head started to nod. As I quietly got up, Grandpapa would reach into the pocket of his grey knit vest and pull out a box of chocolate covered raisins, pressing them into my teen-aged hand.
Sharing makes everything better.
Somehow, everything always was better. I'll never forget the call from the hospital. Grandpapa had suffered a massive stroke. It was snowing that night. Great big fluffy snowflakes falling through the glow of the streetlight.