Grandpa

In February, I wrote a post titled, The Ten People I Couldn't Have Healed Without. I can't believe I left off my grandfather. So, I think it is fitting that I dedicate this post to him.

After spending a lifetime of looking for support about the abuse in my family, when I was 35, I had a conversation with my grandparents. During the conversation, Grandpa told me about something he witnessed when I was a child. He said that although he grew up in an era (born in 1909) where it was deemed "inappropriate" to meddle in someone else's family unit, he visited my mother and stepfather and told them their methods, were too harsh. They agreed, and promised to make "some changes."

I remembered the story he told and was amazed that had he tried to intervene. As we spoke about the abuse, my 83 year old grandfather began to cry. His tears were both healing and heartbreaking for me. Shortly thereafter, my grandmother became angry with me, told me she didn't believe me about the abuse, and that I was a horrible child. She told me that she never wanted to see me again. Grandpa pleaded with her, "Stop it! Nancy was a wonderful child!"

At that point in his life, Grandpa was physically dependent on my grandmother. It was hard enough to lose the Grandmother I loved so much, but when she cut me out of her life, sadly, she cut me out of grandpas as well.

After Grandma died eight years later (we never reconciled), grandpa and I reunited. I visited him in his nursing home every Sunday - without fail - until he died at the age of ninety-six. I wrote this piece after our reunion:

Grateful For Grandpa

Many people tell me they love to hear my “Grandpa” stories. They say that when I speak of him they actually experience what I feel. I am very proud of my grandfather. I radiate when I recreate his essence – the persona of a man gifted with a positive outlook on life; always a smile, a kind word, or a spark of humor.

I pray I will follow Grandpa’s example and age with bountiful grace, kindness, love and dignity. He symbolizes to me the best of what people can be.

I cherish many wonderful childhood memories of this ninety-six year old gentleman; reflections of teaching me cribbage, dominoes and talking as we walked on the beach. But my most heartfelt memories are those of the man he was and how he lived his life.

Grandpa’s heart was big and with a twinkle in his eye, he lived an example of love, morality, and kindness that is truly a role model for generations to come. Over the years, I watched him extend himself to family members and friends. Whether he made his home yours or simply visited at a time of need, he has been there for everyone.

Grandpa was eighty-eight years old when grandma died. Unable to live on his own, he moved into a six bed adult residential care facility. The simultaneous loss of his wife and his home must have been extremely difficult for my grandfather. However, Grandpa handled his transition with enviable grace. He tempered heartfelt expressions of love and loss with positive hope for his future. I am in awe of his constant optimistic approach to each situation without displaying a hint of displeasure.

I continue to tell people stories about him; stories of our visits and the delightful things that he has said – stories like these of remembering life’s gentle lessons:

When I was a child, Grandma, Grandpa, and his then seventy something year old sister took my brothers and me to the Suspension Bridge in Canada. Aunt Jessie was a little unsteady as we approached the lengthy span. Grandpa took her purse in one hand and then gently slipped his other arm through hers. He very patiently and lovingly escorted his older sister across the long wobbly bridge. In the decades to come, I watched Grandpa in many such circumstances – always the gentleman, always compassionate. However, this particular memory stands out for me, because, as I waited in the distance and watched them make this long journey together, I made my first conscience realization of what sort of man my grandfather really was.

Even at ninety and suffering from severe dementia, Grandpa never lost his sense of humor. Once before Grandpa and I left a gathering at my aunts house, she took Grandpa by the hand to escort him to use the facilities. When a visiting child asked where my aunt was taking him, the room fell in awkward silence. Grandpa saved the moment with his mischievous reply, “Well, she’s taking me out back for a whoopin of course!”

I treasured my time with Grandpa, even as I struggled with the discomfort of watching as his life slowly slipped away. Although he could no longer carry on a conversation or remember anything past the present, I was blessed with the opportunity to return the love he had shared throughout a lifetime. We went on long drives, simple outings, sat and played checkers or to a restaurant to eat. In the end, we mostly stay in his room and watched TV. Grandpa enriched my life with a wink and a smile; with a big gripping hug and the words in earnest, “I love you!” He provided the little connections that make life meaningful.

For more than a half-century, Grandpa occupied “his chair”; to read, to watch TV, and to watch over his family. Each week, I sat on the floor at Grandpas feet to cut and arrange new flowers for his room. I looked up at my Grandfather and watched him - watch over me - just as he has since I was little a little girl, and I was grateful for each day I was still a granddaughter.