When he pulled up at his house at 12:00 he had a shit eating grin from ear to ear on his face. The old man couldn't have been happier. He got out of the car, got in his wheelchair and went straight to the beer fridge to make sure he had enough for everyone. Luckily we had planned on that.
My uncle Phil fired up the grill and I seasoned up the Baby Backs, Chicken Thighs, TX Style Beef Ribs and Venison sausage and began the grilling. Well, unbeknownst to us, Opa was going back to his bathroom and pounding bourbon shots.
3pm. The food is done and so was Opa. That man was FUCKED UP. 93 years old and smashed. My aunt put him to bed and we hung out and talked family politics for a while. The old man was glad to be home. That is for damn sure.
Welcome home Opa, you did it in style.