... is living on in the carefully plotted narratives about himself that are to be spoken by those remaining behind.
My father dutifully repeats the narratives plotted by his mother about herself and her family, although his heart's not in it. He seems to expect me to do the same for him.
This is good. He doesn't want to be remembered by his grandkids as the Evil Grandpa Who Disinherited Us. Well, that's the hope, anyway.