Grandpa didn’t say he was coming home to die. He said he was coming home to make good memories with the time he had left.

Today we celebrated Thanksgiving. Our celebration included grace said around the hospital bed in the living room that we can only hope Grandpa heard before we had dinner on the other end of the house.

Today was hard.

Today we cried.

But today, when the butter shot out of the mixer while mashing potatoes, across the kitchen into the gravy and when we pulled out the old deck of animal rummy cards for a few lively rounds before bed and a dozen other smaller points in between, we also made good memories.

And that’s worth all the heartache and tears.