Perpetually Stuck in Transition, Optimistically

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Monday, February 8, 2010

Saying Goodbye

I seem to be the only person my Grandfather George wants to feed him (besides Linda Card - his caretaker. An amazing woman whom I am extremely grateful for). It might be because I'm the only other male in the house. He has surrounded himself with women who adore and care for him - but he cant stand it when they start telling him what to do. My grandfather has an instant connection with anyone he meets. He is the most observant person I've ever met. When I came into the room he stared at me - his eyes lit up, and the biggest smile you've ever seen flooded across his face. Even though he can't talk, I knew exactly what he wanted to say. And that was before I reminded him I was his grandson. He can barely hear, but reads the mood in the room by expressions and body language, and he doesn't miss a thing. If he notices anyone is crying he somehow finds a way to make a joke. Its hard to resist laughing when the dying guy is the one cracking funnies from his bed. Its easy to tell he's frustrated he can't speak. His communication has broken down to grunts, winks, smiles, growling, and stares. Don't try to finish a thought when he's stuttering his mumbles - you'll get a growl. If you happen to guess what he's trying to tell you on the first try - he'll stare at you with amazement, as if you're a magician that can read minds.

I can't tell how he feels about dying. I feel that it would frustrate him not being able to answer that question the way he would like to if I asked him. The most I can gather is he doesn't want anyone to be sad - no matter what happens. I will miss him with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye - I love you Grandpa George.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Grandfather George

Traveling to Florida today to see my Grandfather George, likely for the last time, I had a layover in Atlanta, where I saw a woman reading a book called “Is reality an Option?” A better question might be “What is reality? And how do I get in touch with it?”

It’s a strange feeling visiting a relative for the last time. My grandfather is 95 years old. For the past few weeks he’s been having two small strokes per week. I’ve never been very close to him. The few times I had the pleasure to hang out with him, he showed me the excitement he has for life simply with his wonderful facial expressions and humor.