Yesterday evening my parents told me that my Grandfather (that is, my father's father) had passed away. The news did not come as a shock. After all, he was more than 90 years old and had spent the last few days in a coma.
Grandpa lived a long and interesting life. An artist of some renown, before he reached the age of 20, he left Sweden for France and spent most of his life alternating between the two countries. Until, he and my Grandmother (who passed away many years earlier), finally settled down permantly in the southern parts of his native country.
What I admired the most about my Grandfather was his boundless creativity: Whether it was through paintings, sculpting or writing haikus, he was always seeking out new and varied ways to express himself and continued to do so well into his final years. He also encouraged the creative side in others and was always very supportive of my own creative endeavors, be they writings or drawings.
In the end, my Grandfather passed away, after almost a century of living. He died peacefully in his sleep, which I would say is as good a death as one can hope for. He will be missed, by all those of us who had the privilege to know him.
Rest In Peace, Grandfather.
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