We stopped to put fuel in the car last night.

As Greg went in to pay, I got teary-eyed about my Dad being gone. Griffin asked if I was crying. I told him I wasn’t, so he wouldn’t worry, but he knew better. I’ll never forget what he did next.

My 7-year-old “softie” unbuckled his seatbelt, and climbed up front to put his arms around me. I love Griffin’s sentimental ways and compassion for others. Then he said, “I feel sorry for you, Mom. I lost a Papaw…

…but you lost a Dad.”

An old soul who knew what to say when it mattered most.

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