Summary: My grandfather, who died about a million years ago, lived alone for the last few years of his life. I went to visit him shortly before he croaked at the ripe old age of 92. I remember it like it was yesterday, because it taught me a valuable lesson about food. He was clearly on his last legs. His skin was withered, his teeth were gone, and he was confined to a wheelchair. He never left his dark, dreary apartment, and he had outlived my grandmother and all his friends.
