My grandfather was a good man. Helpful and kind to those around him. When he died the chapel pews were full of people, and others stood in the back. He was not a famous man. He was not a rich man by any means. He was just a kind man, who had touched many lives.
He died when I was 16, and since then I have tried, and failed, and tried again, to be as kind and helpful as he was.
I’ll never have that many people at my funeral. And that’s ok. It’s the effort that matters more. He’d be proud.