The month of August is somewhat of a special month to me. My maternal grandfather died on August 28th (1976 according to my mom). I still remember him and still miss him dearly. I remember as a child crying every time I'd pass by the hospital where he died. In my head, that hospital was responsible for my grandfather's death. As I grew older, I still feel uncomfortable being by that hospital, but at least I don't blame that place.
If my grandfather were still alive, he'd be 108. Of course, humans are too fragile to outlive a century.
Anyway may you have a good day, grandpa.
