Ryan's Grandpa died last Monday. Kimball Haslam was 93 and had been declining in health for some time. The funeral was yesterday followed by a huge pancake feast (whole wheat pancakes with honey butter were a specialty of Grandpa's) attended by about 60 family members. As far as funerals go it was a happy one, an occaision to remember a good, long, well lived life instead of mourning a life ended too soon. In spite of this Ryan and I still managed to stand in front of the microphone and cry through our duet instead of singing. Oh well. I didn't know him as well or as long as most of the family, but I'll always have fond memories of the few horseback rides he took Ryan and I on, and I'll always be proud that he called me "Shorty."
3 comments:
it's nice when funerals can be more joyous than not. although still sad for those left behind.
i wonder what grandpa haslam would have called me?
Emily, maybe he'd call you "Shorter"? His nickname for Rebecca was "Skinny". I have no idea if he knew what our real names were.
Hi Shorty. I'm Skinny. :) I don't think he knew our real names. :)
Your tears through the song were very touching. Grandpa was awesome. :)
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