Grandpa Was a Mover - Original Writing

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Grandpa Was a Mover - Original Writing Grandpa was always on the move, and once he decided to go, he didn't waste time looking back. This vital part of his character started at an early age. He was only four when his mother died, and as soon as he was old enough, he left Irwin, Missouri and traveled the world before settling in Kansas City in the early 1920's. Emerson Moseley worked at the central office of the Postal Telegraph and received market closings from all satellite offices. Night after night he received reports, but one in particular caught his attention because it always closed the same way. "Ok, good night, God bless you, see you tomorrow, Della Kay." Curiosity got the best of him and he decided to pay her a surprise visit. Della Kay was a good woman and realized right away that Emerson was a man worth catching. They were married three weeks later against the protests of everyone who knew them. "It will never last," they said, but it did. For 60 years. Three hundred sixty eight days after the wedding their first and only child arrived. Emerson tried several jobs in town but soon became bored with the routine. He hit the road and spent most of his life working out of his car. The road was a symbol of life and offered limitless opportunities. He always returned home with a gift or two under his arm, but one particular Christmas surprise would change their lives forever. On his arm was a Kitten; not the feline variety, but the woman who would marry his son and give him the granddaughters who would breathe new life into him. That's where I come into the picture. I'm the first-born child of that marriage. G... ... middle of paper ... ...ere would never be another quite like him. When they covered him with the sheet, I took Maude back to her room. We laughed and cried as we reminisced about the time we shared with him. I drove home in a stupor and spent the afternoon feeling my loss. When my children arrived home from school and saw me there, they knew the end had come and joined me in my grief. On Friday we cried again with family and friends as the minister delivered the eulogy we prepared. Instead of mourning our loss we celebrated his life. We buried him next to Grandma - not in the quiet spot under the large Maple tree, but right up against the busy road traveled by thousands of active people every day. He picked the spot. He said he wanted to hear the roar of traffic passing by. As long as there was a road, there was someplace else to go.

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