5 posts tagged “gramps”

My grandparents' house got put up for sale today.  I realize it's just a house, but my heart still hurts.  Badly.

Today was April's mom's funeral.  It was a short and sweet service at the funeral home and subsequent interment at the cemetary.  I did pretty well until I watched as April placed a single flower on her mom's casket, said a few words (which I was not close enough to hear), and tapped on the casket.  Unreal.  Loretta was only 53.  She enjoyed her job, she loved her family, and she had a good life. I find myself with quite a conundrum when I compare her sudden death to that of my grandparents' current circumstances:  Is it better to die when things in life are good and not have the longest life or is it better to keep on living, even when each day is more painful and uncomfortable than the last, just to still be alive?  I really can't answer that question.  I do think that it is fortunate that Loretta will never be a nursing home resident, that she will not be burdened with medical bills, and that she will never have experienced a lengthy illness; however, she will never experience being a grandparent, seeing her daughter get married (should it become legal), and enjoying retirement with her husband.  Is it worth all the misery at the end to have a few more life experiences over a few more years?  I just can't find peace with the question. 

The following are true accounts of a few funny things said to me during my visit with Grandpop: 

• "You must be his sister!" - A crazy old lady to me, in reference to my relationship with Grandpop.
• "Like my wheelchair?" - Same crazy lady, as she's pointing her wheelchair, which appears to be brand new.
• "I chopped it up with a hatchet!  Now I can go to the grocery store and it fits lots of soft drinks." - Again, the crazy lady, explaining why she brought up the wheelchair comment in the first place.
• "There's all these old people around here..." - Grandpop, quietly whispering to me while while defeating the purpose of whispering by pointing at the other people in the room.

Not a quote, but another funny thing that happened while I was visiting Grandpop was when the crazy lady ended up pulling the left side of her  wheelchair up to my knees (blocking me in).  Grandpop was mocking her as she babbled to me, then he decided to subtlely push her wheelchair forward, away from me.  I busted out laughing.  I just couldn't help it.

Next, I went to visit Grandmom.  These are a few actual statements she made to me:

• "Don't you agree that lettuce under the food is too much?" - It was out of nowhere, but I loved it.  I despise lettuce in anything other than a salad.
• "Why is it that drinks don't taste the same here as they do outside?" - Again, it was out of nowhere, but it explains yet another of my weird behaviors... it's genetic!
• G: "Did you see the shark in the lightbulb?"
  A: "No."
  G: "Well, I guess you wouldn't... they have closed it in now." - NO idea about that one.

When I worked at Video Scene during my first year of college, I always got a kick out of the people who rented the porn movies.  When I worked during the day, it would be mostly middle-aged men in business attire that would come out to the counter with a black bag and a porno.  When I worked at night, it would be college kids and couples that would be renting. During that shift, younger kids that would try to sneak back there to get a peep and I'd go back there and try to embarrass them and run them out of the room (which my friend Steve would tell me was pretty hysterical because I was shorter than these kids [and most of the shelving] and no one took me seriously).  Anyway, imagine my surprise when this old lady came up to the register with a porno called "Amanda by Night."  I was freaked out not just because she picked the one porn that had my own name in the title, but because she was an old lady renting a porno!  I was wondering why she wouldn't prefer one of the granny porns that were in the fetish section... wouldn't she feel more comfortable with one of those?  "87 and still bangin'" seems like that would make for a delightful evening.

Okay, terrible segue time...

Speaking of 87 and still banging, guess what my mom found in my grandparents' house?!  Big D was cleaning out my grandparents' house when she came across an opened box of condoms with seven condoms left!  Uggh!  My grandparents had two children, and with that knowledge my mom said, "Well, I now have proof that your grandmother had sex more than twice!"  Again, uggh!  I really can't say that I believe that these were a recent purchase, but you just never know.  All I know is that this better not be the reason that grandmom broke her hip!

It's weird pulling into my driveway these days.  As much as I bitched about Grandpop and Grandmom's habit of staring out of the window of their side door, noting my every move, I kind of miss them being there.  From the time El and I were young, they always had tabs on us.  At certain times, it wasn't really a bad thing.  For example, Mom and Dad would feel comfortable leaving us at home by ourselves (whether that meant while they were at work while we were on summer break or while they were on vacation out of state) because our grandparents were next door and could keep an eye (or four) on us.  Of course, as the years went on, I felt somewhat like an exhibitionist when kissing a boyfriend outside of my house, knowing that they were watching. 

If they weren't staring outside the side door when I got home, they would likely be found out in the yard.  In recent years, we'd get knocks on the door from everything from a friendly invitation to Bonanza for dinner to a frightened plea for a ride to the hospital because Grandmom's gums wouldn't stop bleeding.  Most recently, Grandpop would come knock on the door to ask if we'd seen Grandmom; we'd just have to remind him that Grandmom was at Salisbury Nursing Home, where she now has to live.  It's almost like everytime we remind him of that, he hears it again for the first time and it hits him so hard.  I can't even imagine what it's like to live life like that.

I try to remember that Grandpop's life is riddled with layers upon layers of emotions: anger, depression, confusion, vulnerability, sadness, fear, paranoia, loneliness, and short-lived bursts of happiness and clarity.  Knowing all of this, and using my intelligence to process all of it, does nothing to diffuse the emotional drainage I personally experience.  I don't believe that I will ever forget the Sunday afternoon just a few weeks ago that Grandpop told me that I didn't love him and that I wanted to see him dead, all as he was punching the side door of his house.  He was upset because he thought I went to see Grandmom without him, though all I did was go out to breakfast (to which I had also invited him).

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I miss the people that they were.  I guess I don't really miss them blatantly following my every move, as much as I just miss the awareness of life that they had.  It's so saddening for my grandfather to not remember my name and for my grandmother to not to remember how to swallow.

Sometimes you just don't really know what you have until it's gone, which I guess is so true of so many things in my life.