On Sunday, my Pop Pop passed away. It worth noting that if he'd had a movie it would have been called 24 Going on 87 (likely staring Stallone and Brosnan as awkward leads in a silly RomCom). I don't say this thinking he was deluded; in his mind, I believe, he was still living out the best years of his life. He knew intrinsically that he could never let anything stop him from living his very best life. This is something I hope to carry forward.

Grateful is all I can be for the time we had. More than once it could have been a lot shorter - but, like his favorite Philadelphia Icon, he wouldn't be kept down. Even though Rocky ultimately loses against Apollo, it never made his fight any less beautiful.

"But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!"

If you ever asked him who won the first fight, he would always answer "Rocky". I used to think this was a mental mistake, but I think I get it now. It was never about whose hand was raised at the end of the fight to him.

Anyway, here's a picture from the night before my wedding. It's moments like this that make me realize how very lucky I am. Godspeed Pop Pop, I'll see you when the bell dings to start the next round.