Personal history here, Tis. My paternal grandfather passed away in '87. We had gotten the call from Rosary Hill (a hospice in Westchester run by the nuns) at about 11 in the morning. They told us he would likely pass away within a few hours. Well, we ended up missing him "depart" this life by about ten minutes. And missing him go really haunted my Dad.

A year or two later, my Dad and I are in a local bar that we frequented back then, and we hear "The Living Years" for the first time. They get to the verse "I wasn't there that morning, when my father passed away," and my father just lost it. Now keep in mind, he was about 60 years old when this song came out, but a lifetime of love for my grandfather just came pouring out of him.

To this day, I can't listen to that song without getting EXTREMELY emotional. Not so much for my grandfather (because he had a great, full life), but for my father's tears that day.

I guess you're never too old to be your father's little pal.