While I was gone this weekend, I missed the sad news of Brad's grandfather's passing. He and his wife were always kind enough to put up with Brad's friends on numerous occasions, and their hospitality is unmatched. We have all known that he was ill for a long time, so it was extra special that he was able to make it to Brad's wedding a few years (did I just type that?) ago.
One time a few of us were in Assiniboia for a wedding, and we had way too much to drink the night before, myself in particular. It was all I could do to stay mobile during the wedding ceremony and, quite frankly, near the end couldn't (and didn't) even stand when required to do so. After it was over, I rushed back to my car and back to Brad's grandparents (where we were staying) and didn't quite make it, throwing up all over the street the moment I stuck my head out of my car. Feeling quite refreshed, I continued about my activities for the day. It was later I learned that Brad's grandpa had gone out and washed what had earlier been the contents of my stomach off the street.
From that day forward, I was known to Brad's grandpa as "The Puker". Without fail, whenever his memory failed him and he couldn't remember my name, it was always, "Oh, you're the puker!" What was originally a source of shame became a term of endearment to me, because he was such a joy to be around I was honoured that he even remembered me, even if it was for the wrong reasons.
I talked with Brad briefly tonight and he said that I even came up in conversation as recently as a few weeks ago. Apparently Brad's grandma was telling him about mine and Sofi's wedding and how Brad and all the crew were going down to Mexico for it. Grandpa Mattson quickly replied, "I hope he pukes all over his own dance floor!" :)
Brad swears to me that his grandpa liked me, he just hated me for throwing up on his sidewalk, but I'm not so sure. What I am sure of is that I liked him - a lot. He will be dearly missed.