My Grandpa died 42 years ago today. I only knew him for 18 years, and he's been gone twice that many, but I still miss him.

We listened to Red Sox games together on the radio, eating popcorn until too late into the night (extra innings), and he taught me how to use a scythe. We talked about all kinds of things while I helped him pick strawberries or pull weeds or play a round of croquet.

I can close my eyes right now and smell Old Spice and pipe tobacco.

*sigh*