My Opa

I am very, very sad, because my dear Opa passed away on Sunday.

It wasn't a sudden thing, because he'd had cancer for several months, but somehow, knowing he would go didn't make it any easier.

Opa had the absolute best sense of humor and a naughty streak a mile long.  (Once he switched his hearing aid with my Oma's.  His hearing aid is on one side and my Oma's is on the other.  Poor Oma couldn't understand why her hearing aid didn't fit any longer - or why Opa was sniggering.)

I will miss the way he mispronounced words like help (he-lup), the special way he said coffee (with a hard K sound that was unmistakeably European), and the twinkle in his eye when he called me "the Brain".  (Opa nick-named everything, including me.  And no, it wasn't completely a compliment.  I was a precocious and insufferable know-it-all as a child.)

My oldest son, Peter, is named after my Opa. 

Needless to say Peter has been getting a few extra hugs and kisses.