a sip of scotch.

After more than a month (during which time, I kept thinking of posts I wanted to write, about our fantastic Christmas Day and day-after meals and that kind of thing), here we go.

Dad called late in the day yesterday to let us know that Granddad had passed away. He went to sleep and just didn't wake up. Which is how you want to go, I suppose. Grandmother passed earlier this summer and it seems that Granddad, for all the fractiousness in their decades-long relationship, was lost without her. He was 90. My most recent visit with him was when Dad and I spent several days in L.A. about 3 years ago; I felt sad that we didn't see more of G&G, but distance made that difficult. And really, I wanted to preserve my impressions of them—Granddad in particular—as vibrant, lively people. I always thought he was neat. I can trace my love of boats and the water directly through Dad to him, much as I can trace my green thumb straight to Grandma. I will forever associate Brach's butterscotch candies with him, and I think we have him to thank for exposing me to the concept of happy hour—I remember peanuts and, for the grownups, cocktails or cold beers around 5:00 on the boat trips we took with him. I took a certain amount of pride growing up that my grandfather spent his early retirement years in Florida windsurfing with men half his age. He notoriously broke his ankle—shattered it, actually—while skateboarding downhill on our street, a ride that ended in a collision with a mailbox.

I have very fond memories of my grandparents individually; as a couple, their bickering could make them difficult to be around. They were both hugely present in my childhood; we'd often have dinner at their home before they moved to Florida during my teen years, and I spent summer Saturdays with Grandmother, who was a costumed interpreter at Conner Prairie (I loved my little pioneer girl dress). After they moved south, we spent spring breaks with them, and they'd make too-long visits in the summer. And then, as they got too old and infirm to live on their own in Florida, they went to California—and we became less a part of each others' lives. Still, I know they're both important parts of my make-up. I'll sip a Scotch to their memories.