It was his signature phrase. I knew quite early on, if my grandfather began to speak, he would end with, “and stuff…” I assumed it was because he wanted an out. An early exit. He wasn’t a big talker, like Grandma Elsie. It could have been the farm report. The forecast. Last night’s card game recap. A sensitive family matter. They all ended with “and stuff…” 

But that’s the thing. I see it now. It wasn’t an ending. It was his lifeline extended. And if you look it up by definition, these ellipses, they are soft pauses to the continuation. He could see that the story would always live on. And he offered a way to carry it. So I grab ahold of each dot. And begin again. The stories live on, holding, gathering and passing along the most precious stuff.