He was a very sick man for the past few years. A stroke caused him to be a mere shell of who he was that I remember as a kid.
I tell you what though, I'm relieved. I hate death, but I hated his quality of life more. I hated that he could barely talk. I hated that he needed to be strapped into a wheelchair to prevent him from falling. I hated that he couldn't express his thoughts and feelings. I hated that he just wasn't him.
My grandpa was a magician back in the day and I hope he's chillin' in heaven pulling little foam rabbits out of the ears of the kids up there like he used to do with me.
Grandpa, I'm so sorry you never got to meet Jackson, but I know that you will know him in your heart. Please watch over us all and remember, a magician never tells his secrets.