Yesterday marked the day of rememberance for a rare gentleman -- my grandfather, George Henry Mouilleseaux. Grandpa George had a unique gift of storytelling such as his ability to delight grandchildren through tales of wild wolves that roamed the streets of Detroit during his postal career. In retrospect, these 'wolves' were likely a few neighborhood dogs searching for a friendly petting but the way he told us, saliva dripped from their yellowed gums as they ravished a carcass of a wayward hawk while he readied his night-stick for the imminent man-vs.-wild battle. :)
The aroma of Grandpa's pipe still strikes me from time to time, and returns me to the kitchen table in Cadiz, KY where PJ and I would watch him pack that pipe full of sweet tobacco. DYK I thought golden raisins were only available in Kentucky? Grandma and Grandpa always a had a box handy when we visited.
Grandpa also taught me how to shoot my first BB gun and dubbed my head the next Annie Oakley's. I was proud.
Grandpa passed away last November and we celebrated him yesterday with a beautiful military service at the Great Lakes VA Cemetary in Holly, MI.
The pictures I attach today are of the drive into the grounds with the flags lining the road, and the solemn view of the white stones where the soliders lay. Sadly, there were too many of them but it is an amazing nod to the number of men and women who dedicate their lives to their service.
After a touching service, we saw where Grandpa's final resting place will be: Plot #913. I will return after the stone is set. So until then, it seems only fitting that the man who brought out my natural Annie Oakley skill was sent off with a 21-gun salute.
I'll see you on the other side Grandpa...
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