My Grandaddy used to be a singer. So naturally, he loved to sing everything. He called on our birthdays and sang happy birthday. Even as he aged and had throat problems when his voice was weak. He always would call and sing us a little happy melody.
Not many people call me by my birthname, Angelina. But Grandaddy had a very specific way of singing it, and he always would. "Angeliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinaaaaa!" His voice would lift up the sound of the "i" and he'd draw it out in this playful way. That's how I remember him.
Grandaddy's life wasn't without it's challenges and struggles. No one's life is. But he used much of his time to help others avoid the same pitfalls he had climbed out of. That's how I remember him. A flawed, silly, kind man who sang my name to me when I was a little girl. That's how I'll always remember him.
I pray he's singing loud and proud in heaven. RIP, Grandaddy.