Last night, my grandfather passed away.
The man was made of iron. He joined the Navy when he was young and had the tattoos to prove it.
I never once heard him raise his voice, although he could cuss like a sailor.
He built the house he lived in most of his life.
He loved walking for miles for the sheer joy of it.
He taught me about deep-sea fishing.
He was a devout husband, a stern father, and a loving grandparent.
I have never seen him do a single petty or hateful thing; he was, quite possibly, the most decent human being I have ever met.
Salut, Bumpy.