I only met one of my grandpas. He was the most determined person I ever knew.

He would fix roofs under the oppressive Georgia sun. He would make a garden sprout in the harshest soil. Behind the wheel of his Suburban he spent more time looking away from the road than at it. And he remained highly suspicious of those that wouldn’t have a beer and a shot of Wild Turkey with him.

Keeping going is the dominant gene in our family. No one knows how to stop even when our bodies tell us to.

Yesterday I allowed myself not to be like him.