My grandfather lived almost 100 years. That was his goal but he missed it by about 7 months. He wanted to make it not so much because he was having a good time but because it was a goal he had set himself. His mind was sound but his body just couldn’t take it anymore. One of his legs was going gangrene from diabetes and it would have had to be amputated. It wasn’t practical to him to just stay alive and have pieces of himself cut off just to say he’d made it to 100. So my Mom and he agreed that he wouldn’t have the operation.

Gramps was a farmer and he’d spent his life working with nature, figuring how he could make his farm work, keep it going. He had to make hard decisions many times and when it came to spending money on an operation to cut off his leg so he could live a little longer it just didn’t add up.

I spent a good deal of time talking with my Gramps about politics and what was going on in the world and what was happening to America. One day not too long before he had to go live in a nursing home we were talking and I looked over to see tears rolling down his weathered face. I was startled because Gramps was a pretty tough old geezer even at his age. I always respected him and not to many people dared to fuck with him.

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