Early this evening my Grandfather passed away at age 87. He was a husband, a father, a Grandfather, a WWII veteran, a farmer, a general wheeler-dealer, and a good man. He was the youngest and last of his siblings to pass away, the others all going between the ages of 85-95 or so. He married my Grandmother, who survives, in 1941 after dating for two weeks. That was over 64 years ago.

His passing is not as sad as it could be, since he’d been in a nursing home for the past six months after getting to the point where he just couldn’t walk anymore, and had been in the assisted living wing for six months before that. For him the nursing home was a sort of hell, even though family visited nearly every day, as he’d been very mobile and active his whole life. At Christmas he said he was ready to go.

He grew up in the same town that he died in, and as a boy played on the same creek and railroad trestle that my brother, cousin, and I did. But he lived all over the place, especially for a few years after WWII.

During the war he was in the infantry as an Ammunition Pioneer (basically demolitions and mining/de-mining, along with normal infantry duties) in Europe. During his three years there he saw a lot of Europe, walking most of it (my parents saw many of the same places while my father was stationed in Germany in the 60s, as did I while stationed there in the early 90s). He said he was different after the war, and I’m sure it played a major role in defining his life.

He participated in the Battle of the Bulge (for which he received a Bronze Star), and was involved in the liberation of at least one concentration camp. I remember him saying that he picked up a handful of ashes and wondered how many had died there. He told a fair number of stories and never spoke directly about killing, but said that they didn’t take any SS prisoners at the end. He said he’d been shot at by probably every kind of gun there is, but the worst he ever got was cut on barbed wire; he always felt lucky to come back.

When he came back he worked here and there for awhile, even at a Ford plant in Detroit for a bit, but was mostly a farmer, planting crops, raising cattle, bailing hay, putting up fences, etc. He’ll be missed, and remembered for how he was at his best.