ANSWER: My paternal grandfather’s funeral at age 3.
I wasn’t quite sure what was going on but I remember almost choking on a piece of hard candy waiting at the funeral home and tossing pennies into his slightly opened casket.
It’s amazing now that I think about it: He was born in 1889 (like whoa, he lived in the 1800s!) and died in 1987 at the age of 98. He came to the US and was put to work on the railroads in California. The man had two wives (it was totally chill back then). I think he lived quite a life. He wasn’t too fond of me because I was a grand-DAUGHTER but because of this, it is the reason why I am the way I am today—I partly contribute my drive and strive for excellence to him. I hope the long-life gene runs in the family… RIP Grandpa George