Marsha and I were swimming the other night, and she brought up something that had also been occurring to me…even the most irritating things Dad used to do have become a fond memory for both of us.
Memories of grandpa on a car trip…he hummed constantly.
It didn’t matter what the music was (well, maybe not Bran and Linz’s satan music). He would half hum, half gloss over the words throughout the entire trip. Cher was his favorite, and I would often play CD’s that included her songs when we rode across the country from Michigan back to our house in Maryland.
Marsha remembered all the trips up north with him, not only singing, but also reading every road sign along the way.
He irritated us sooooo much. God, I wish he was here to irritate us some more!