Griffin-Fire

My grandfather once handed me a paper bag to cry into he said I'd use up all my tears by the time I got to be his age. Believing every word, I cried into the bag. Grampy, I'm now half the age you were when you left to push up daisies. The promised daises weren't there when I visited your grave. I cried. To honor your memory I left you a coin where the flowers should grow. When my parents asked in amazement how it got there, I swore I didn't know. I cried. You were the first one I loved who died. Grampy, I've loved and lost a lot since you left and cried many times. Still, I haven't run out of tears. Did you know? It's bee