Sad news.

At 5:15 a.m. Thursday, June 4, my mom woke me with news: My paternal grandfather, Dr. Henry G. Spenceley, had passed away at the hospital at 4:37 that morning.

The moment we met, on Nov. 7, 1985.

His passing, according to my grandmother, who was with him, was peaceful. Painless. It was also unexpected, in a way, since he hadn’t been sick, except for the few days prior. I’ll always cherish the photo above, of the moment Popop and I first met.

I last saw him Sunday, May 31, at a big, fun family dinner, where he got to watch my brother teach me how to dance — a happy (and occasionally hilarious) afternoon. My bro and I are so lucky: until Thursday, all four of our grandparents were living. At our ages (32 and 29, respectively), how rare that is.

The last thing I said to my grandfather was “talk to you soon,” not knowing how soon he’d go. But he knew he was loved. And he will be missed.

His obituary is in today’s Tampa Bay Times. Click here to read it.

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