In 2012, I got a job in a city by my parents and because of this job, my monthly visits via family dinners with my Grandpa became weekly and then bi-weekly visits.
On my first non-family-dinner, on-my-lunch-break-visit I hung out with my mother in the kitchen for a bit, who as a primary caregiver, was a bit hungry for company too.
Then I wandered into his sitting room to ask how he was. In reply he turned the TV volume up. I shrugged, sat down and ignored him in return. I pretended my Grandma was in the room and thought about all the things I would have wanted to ask her or maybe tell her. Idly I noticed the show was a western film, an old one and watching the backdrops I asked out loud, "Was this filmed in Utah?"
He glanced sideways at me; (well, now I knew his hearing aids were in), "Who the hell cares?"
I didn't mean to but I grinned. He caught the grin and accidentally grinned too before we both resumed ignoring the other. I left after about half an hour, kissing his face as I went and saying I would see him Friday after work. He didn't answer.
He was, understandably, a bit suspicious. I wondered if he wondered if this grandchild was here for patronizing pity or for money? What was the catch? We had never been close. Our prior monthly visits since Grandma died in 2008 were a mixed bag, sometimes he amiable, sometimes he wasn't. Plus I had always brought a baked bribe. He loved my desserts and I was showing up empty handed.
He had lived his life as an entrepreneur and was good with his money. He disliked authority, distrusted government and had a low tolerance for nonsense. He'd always had wandering feet and an itching to get on the road. Now, ninety six years old, he still possessed his strong mind and independence but his increasingly frail frame didn't support either aspects of his character properly. Which made him grumpy.
At least I think it made him grumpy but that may have just been one more contributory reason for grumpiness. In all of my memories of the man as a kid, I think the only time I saw him not grumpy was when he was in his garage or planning a trip.
The catch was I wanted to know him. I missed my grandmother -a lot. As my sole surviving grandparent, I had decided he was to be inflicted with my determined company. I don't have a lot in common with most of my family. I felt that he and I did have some things in common so I wanted to know him.
I came back on Friday. The moment I walked in my parents ditched for a late late lunch together, something that was rare due to the necessity someone always be near him. Mom patted my shoulder as they went past and pointed to his sitting room. I wandered in. He was napping.
Honestly a nap sounded nice. I set a timer on my phone, sat down in the adjacent recliner, kicked the foot rest up and closed my eyes too.
We were both out like a light. I woke up to the bell tones on my phone 20 minutes later and looking up I saw him studying me. I sat up, folded my hands in my lap and smiled at him, "Hey Grandpa!"
He cleared his throat, "Why are you here? Do you need money?"
"No sir. I do not need money. I just wanted to see you."
He thought about that and answered, "Well, okay.... Then you can stay a little while."
I beamed, "I am reading a book. I brought it and I wondered if you would like it. I could read you a couple of pages."
"Okay then."
The next week's visits were very much the same. I started getting braver and asking why he had left the Navy and why did he start his own company? What did he think about certain politics, religion and about having children? And you know what Reader? He started answering all these questions.
He disliked the government because they made the Great Depression longer with all the programs they started. He said the programs made people lazy and greedy and then the Great War was the escape goat from the bad choices. He liked working for himself because when things fell apart, it was his to fix. Especially since things would fall apart when working for other people anyway.
This summer was a gift.
In mid September, on one of my last visits with him I told him I would soon only see him once a month again. I had been offered a job, a very good job with a bigger company. As I had told him about it he patted my knee and incredulously laughed, "What will You do for Them??"
I glowered.
He smiled and tugged on one of my long blond strands and gestured at my hot orange shoes, dark blue jeans and turquoise blue top, "Yes You! You have wandering feet and a creative mind too. What will You do for this big serious company?"
I flipped my hair, sitting up straighter, "I will be a Program Analyst."
This pleased him and he sat back with his hands on his tummy to think on that a minute while I went back to messing with the arrangement of tiny metal figurines (trains, elephants, sewing machines, etc.) on the table next to his chair.
"Girl, I will miss you." He at last advised.
I swallowed my instant female reaction and cheerfully got up to hug him. "I will miss you too."
My last visit was end of the first week in October. I hadn't been by in five days and I was disappointed when I found him asleep. I tiptoed back out and sat down in the front room to read my book. About five minutes later I heard his door open but kept my eyes down so he could decide if he wanted to see me. Five minutes after that he came out and sat down without looking at me and asked, "What are you reading?"
I told him. He shook his head, "You sure love history."
I shrugged and smiled and put it down.
"Read me a chapter Girl?"
I picked it back up and I began to read and he interrupted "Louder, no reason to whisper."
I started again, and again he interjected "Louder! Can't you read any louder?"
I flushed, maybe he forgot his hearing aids? Maybe he was having an 'off' day?
Soon I was shouting the words as I sat crossed legged, book open in my lap, my hands wildly gesturing to show the violent bloody battle scene laid out before me in calm white pages and black ink....
And then he started to chuckle and I paused, a tiny bead of sweat running down my temple, and I looked up to stare at him.
Now he was in stitches, clapping his hands on his knees as my wide eyes blankly took him in until he gasped -"Gotcha!"
I blushed, slamming the book shut as I grinned at that mischievous person. I tried to cover my mirth with my hands as I protested the ridiculousness, "Grandpa!!"
We laughed and laughed and I ruefully agreed he did get me and after a few more minutes he smiled at me and he told me he had a couple of things to say to me.
In summary he told me to always laugh and always wonder and let my itchy feet take me places and ask questions. He told me he loved his life and he was glad we were friends...And that's all I want to share on that.
I left him feeling young, small and grateful.
My Grandpa passed away just a few weeks later in November.
http://acarnamedkatie.blogspot.com/2011/11/grandpa.html
On my first non-family-dinner, on-my-lunch-break-visit I hung out with my mother in the kitchen for a bit, who as a primary caregiver, was a bit hungry for company too.
Then I wandered into his sitting room to ask how he was. In reply he turned the TV volume up. I shrugged, sat down and ignored him in return. I pretended my Grandma was in the room and thought about all the things I would have wanted to ask her or maybe tell her. Idly I noticed the show was a western film, an old one and watching the backdrops I asked out loud, "Was this filmed in Utah?"
He glanced sideways at me; (well, now I knew his hearing aids were in), "Who the hell cares?"
I didn't mean to but I grinned. He caught the grin and accidentally grinned too before we both resumed ignoring the other. I left after about half an hour, kissing his face as I went and saying I would see him Friday after work. He didn't answer.
He was, understandably, a bit suspicious. I wondered if he wondered if this grandchild was here for patronizing pity or for money? What was the catch? We had never been close. Our prior monthly visits since Grandma died in 2008 were a mixed bag, sometimes he amiable, sometimes he wasn't. Plus I had always brought a baked bribe. He loved my desserts and I was showing up empty handed.
He had lived his life as an entrepreneur and was good with his money. He disliked authority, distrusted government and had a low tolerance for nonsense. He'd always had wandering feet and an itching to get on the road. Now, ninety six years old, he still possessed his strong mind and independence but his increasingly frail frame didn't support either aspects of his character properly. Which made him grumpy.
At least I think it made him grumpy but that may have just been one more contributory reason for grumpiness. In all of my memories of the man as a kid, I think the only time I saw him not grumpy was when he was in his garage or planning a trip.
The catch was I wanted to know him. I missed my grandmother -a lot. As my sole surviving grandparent, I had decided he was to be inflicted with my determined company. I don't have a lot in common with most of my family. I felt that he and I did have some things in common so I wanted to know him.
I came back on Friday. The moment I walked in my parents ditched for a late late lunch together, something that was rare due to the necessity someone always be near him. Mom patted my shoulder as they went past and pointed to his sitting room. I wandered in. He was napping.
Honestly a nap sounded nice. I set a timer on my phone, sat down in the adjacent recliner, kicked the foot rest up and closed my eyes too.
We were both out like a light. I woke up to the bell tones on my phone 20 minutes later and looking up I saw him studying me. I sat up, folded my hands in my lap and smiled at him, "Hey Grandpa!"
He cleared his throat, "Why are you here? Do you need money?"
"No sir. I do not need money. I just wanted to see you."
He thought about that and answered, "Well, okay.... Then you can stay a little while."
I beamed, "I am reading a book. I brought it and I wondered if you would like it. I could read you a couple of pages."
"Okay then."
The next week's visits were very much the same. I started getting braver and asking why he had left the Navy and why did he start his own company? What did he think about certain politics, religion and about having children? And you know what Reader? He started answering all these questions.
He disliked the government because they made the Great Depression longer with all the programs they started. He said the programs made people lazy and greedy and then the Great War was the escape goat from the bad choices. He liked working for himself because when things fell apart, it was his to fix. Especially since things would fall apart when working for other people anyway.
This summer was a gift.
In mid September, on one of my last visits with him I told him I would soon only see him once a month again. I had been offered a job, a very good job with a bigger company. As I had told him about it he patted my knee and incredulously laughed, "What will You do for Them??"
I glowered.
He smiled and tugged on one of my long blond strands and gestured at my hot orange shoes, dark blue jeans and turquoise blue top, "Yes You! You have wandering feet and a creative mind too. What will You do for this big serious company?"
I flipped my hair, sitting up straighter, "I will be a Program Analyst."
This pleased him and he sat back with his hands on his tummy to think on that a minute while I went back to messing with the arrangement of tiny metal figurines (trains, elephants, sewing machines, etc.) on the table next to his chair.
"Girl, I will miss you." He at last advised.
I swallowed my instant female reaction and cheerfully got up to hug him. "I will miss you too."
My last visit was end of the first week in October. I hadn't been by in five days and I was disappointed when I found him asleep. I tiptoed back out and sat down in the front room to read my book. About five minutes later I heard his door open but kept my eyes down so he could decide if he wanted to see me. Five minutes after that he came out and sat down without looking at me and asked, "What are you reading?"
I told him. He shook his head, "You sure love history."
I shrugged and smiled and put it down.
"Read me a chapter Girl?"
I picked it back up and I began to read and he interrupted "Louder, no reason to whisper."
I started again, and again he interjected "Louder! Can't you read any louder?"
I flushed, maybe he forgot his hearing aids? Maybe he was having an 'off' day?
Soon I was shouting the words as I sat crossed legged, book open in my lap, my hands wildly gesturing to show the violent bloody battle scene laid out before me in calm white pages and black ink....
And then he started to chuckle and I paused, a tiny bead of sweat running down my temple, and I looked up to stare at him.
Now he was in stitches, clapping his hands on his knees as my wide eyes blankly took him in until he gasped -"Gotcha!"
I blushed, slamming the book shut as I grinned at that mischievous person. I tried to cover my mirth with my hands as I protested the ridiculousness, "Grandpa!!"
We laughed and laughed and I ruefully agreed he did get me and after a few more minutes he smiled at me and he told me he had a couple of things to say to me.
In summary he told me to always laugh and always wonder and let my itchy feet take me places and ask questions. He told me he loved his life and he was glad we were friends...And that's all I want to share on that.
I left him feeling young, small and grateful.
My Grandpa passed away just a few weeks later in November.
http://acarnamedkatie.blogspot.com/2011/11/grandpa.html
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