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Grandparents
2001-06-28 - 11:24 a.m.Grandparents
I have always counted myself fortunate to have grown up with both sets of grandparents alive and mostly well. While we were never terribly close to them, 2 hours to the farm, and 12 down to Tampa FL, they have certainly been an influence in my life growing up.
Grandmothers are nice I suppose, they were always there to remind me to respect my parents, make up my bed and in general be grouches. Now both of my grandmothers were school teachers, active in the local church, sticklers for order, and both named Margaret. Now they are both crazy thanks to Althezimers and don't remember hardly anyone or anything, just sit and be mostly happy/crazy. One, who just celebrated her 61st wedding anniversary with my dad's dad, says that he is a nice man and that she'd like to marry him one day. The other, my mom's mom, used to cook lavish meals on the farm now only eats food that comes between two slices of bread and picks up sticks around the yard. It's kinda sad really, but in a way, they are permanently stuck in Margaret-world and seem to be pretty happy there. I know I'm gonna end up like my grandmothers, and I try not to think about it and avoid cooking on aluminium pots, take anti-inflammatories everyday and keep my estrogen levels proper with the BC pill. What little good this will do in the end I don't know. Grandmothers seem to be warnings of the future.
But, grandfathers, oh what a joy they are. Grandfathers are the best, take you around to places, buy ponies for you and take care of them on the farm, can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, play golf into their late 80's and are always kind and forgiving, even when grandmothers aren't. Especially as the "boy" of three girls growing up, I love my grandfathers. They are the coolest. So, just because nature has a cruel sense of humor, it is my grandfathers who get sick and have health problems and my grandmothers are silly, and clueless and still kicking along.
My favorite grandfather, Grampa Flake, died a few years ago from cancer related problems. When I was in 10th grade, he had a tennis ball sized tumor in his stomach that they removed, and he tried to show us all the staples in his belly. He was fine for a few years, but then during my senior year in college, cancer came back, with fervor this time and practically took him over. He fought it pretty well. I would go home for doctor's appointments and sit with Grampa Flake while he underwent chemo and we'd talk. About the farm, about the dogs, how school was going, about the crop, almost anything. He decided when he was on a liquid diet that he wanted a tin roof on his house, so he climbed up there and replaced it himself. Not much could stop him. But when Grandma Flake started to get crazier, and couldn't take care of herself much less him, his health declined radically. He was in and out of the hospital and mom got him into an assisted living faciliy, but away from the farm he simply wilted until he was no more. The February after I moved to DC, my dad called letting me know that he didn't have much time left, and if I wanted to see him, I should come home now. I told my boss, took off the time, and planned to leave in the morning after rush hour. That morning, as I was packing, dad called and told me to wait until the funeral since I was too late. I was six hours too late...
I still carry around a bit of guilt that I didn't get to say goodbye, didn't get to see him one more time... I know he is happier and better off, no pain now.The true kicker is that our HR department is a bunch of bastards! I took off a week to drive down to the funeral, and spend time with my family. I contacted them to see what the policy was when I got back as far as taking vacation/sick time or what was the deal. Not only did I have to use my earned sick time, I had to justify to them that there was a funeral, giving them the date he died, the date of hte funeral, his name, etc. bastards. I'll know better next time to not even bother with HR.
So, I get a call from my dad yesterday shortly before leaving work early due to a severe headache. They had planned to go to Willard and Inma's wedding in Georgetown, SC and then drive onto Florida to visit with Grampa Thies. He was letting me know that they'd be skipping the wedding and driving directly down to FL as soon as possible, today or tomorrow to see Grampa. The doctors say that he is unresponsive most of the time, in lots of pain and giving up. Mind you, I think Grampa has every right to give up at this point. He's had heart problems for a while, gout in his legs, hearing problems, and been kinda sickly for the past decade. He just celebrated his 94th birthday in January, I think, and has done all he could in this world. He finally got to see the great-grandchild Trinity a few months ago. He's lived his life. But, I haven't seen Grampa in a long time. In fact it was Oct. 98, when we went on a cruise and stopped by Tampa afterwards to visit for a short while before hopping the plane back to the rat race. I recently saw a picture of him with Trin from their recent visit, and he looked puny, emaciated, and sick, and tired. I don't know if I want to remember him this way, in a hospital bed, tired, giving up. But then again, I don't know if I could live without saying goodbye to him, since I missed out on Grampa Flake. Selfish of me really. I never made the time in my schedule before now, why should I expect him to wait...
My Grampa Thies is an excellent man. He grew up in Wisconsin, and was an electrician back when electricity was new. We had this picture at their 50th wedding anniversary party of him and my Grandmother in front of his own truck with the business labelled in the side. I still have this one coffee maker of his. The switch broke on it, so he replaced it with an antique switch to make it work. Nevermind that I don't drink coffee anymore, or that the rest of it is cheap plastic, it's a little remnant of him, and the way he was. He moved to FL for my dad's senior year in high school I think, and retired down there shortly there after. They have a condo, and Grampa used to play 9 holes of golf a day. I remember caddying for him once during a visit. Even when he couldn't walk the course, he'd get a cart and play his nine holes. He hasn't done that in a few years now.
So, that's enough of my self pity. But I have this quandry now. Do I rush down there this weekend, skipping out on obligations, and fork over the $300 for a round trip ticket in hopes of seeing him one last time, or do I wait for the inevitable funeral? I guess what I really should do is wait for a call from my parents after they get down there to see how he's doing. Then I can make up my mind. I hate to be quibbling over $600 for two flights to Tampa FL, and seeing my grandfather one last time, but there you go... I have obviously survived not seeing my other grandfather before he passed on, but still do carry around quite a bit of guilt about it. Would it help with closure? Or should I keep the picture I have of him in my mind, snoozing innocently in front of the TV, golfing those nine holes a day, playing with the video camera. Is it just my selfishness to see him again, or does he want to see me again before he completely gives up? Will he even be lucid enough to know I'm there? I guess for some questions there are no answers...
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