Whats with the "happy days"?

All our "happy days" turn to shit ... my dad died on my grannys birthday a few years ago - and today (Thanksgiving) Matts grandpa died.

I had looked forward to today all week, it is my only day off and all I could think of was sleeping in this morning. I feel like a dumbass that the sound of the phone ringing at 6 AM sent me into a quiet rage of thinking "Who the hell is waking me up on Thanksgiving!" then before I could even fully open my eyes I thought "Oh no." I knew in the bottom of my heart that something bad was about to be told to me... I knew it wasn't a good thing for the phone to be ringing that early on a holiday. Sure enough, it was my father in law Mike calling to give us the bad news. Suddenly, I would give up sleeping in forever if we could just share a good laugh with Paul one last time.

His best days had past quite a while ago as he had slowly been getting worse. Recently he had suffered a few minor strokes, and I will echo everyone else in saying "He's in a better place, he's not suffering anymore" but that doesnt make it sting any less and we all know that we are never ready to get that phone call. All I can say is that he was an awesome grandpa- he lived a good long life and he will be missed greatly. The first time I met Paul he was chomping at the bit for Matt and Marisa to throw the frisbee with him in the yard. He was old fashioned and he liked to live his life that way. He loved little puzzles , you know , the ones that drive me crazy. He was tickled when Matt shot the big buck out in their garden... he liked watching the deer in the backyard and he would call to tell Matt about them. He reminded me a lot of my grandpa... and I will miss him a lot.