“Grandpa died,” my mom said when her phone call from Grandma ended. I was a sophomore in high school. After retiring from his career as an assembler of wood-paneled station wagons at the Ford Motor Company, my mom’s father spent every morning working in his garden. One day in May, after returning to the house and eating a small lunch, he lay down for a nap. An hour later, Grandma couldn’t wake him.

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