So this weekend we went to San Antonio, I love going to San Antonio! I was born there, raised there until I was 11 and my family lives there. If I had it my way, I would go visit like every single weekend. We stayed at the Menger Hotel by the riverwalk (do a search, it is supposedly haunted, but I don't think so), I got to see my uncle who I haven't seen since I was like 13 or so, met my cousin or something that I hadn't met before (he is 3), took some great pictures, watched the Rangers win the game and clench going to the World Series for the 2nd straight year (GOOOOO RANGERS!!!!). Ate waaaaaaaay to much (I don't think I want to see food again for another year), rode the boar on the riverwalk, took some old time pictures, hung out with my baby brother (even though he is almost a foot taller than me now), went to lunch with my grandma, did some electrical work, walked around downtown, laughed a whole lot and came home.
I finally made it to go see my grandpa. I sure have missed him. He isn't doing well, and I am glad I got to see him this weekend. When I got to the nursing home on Saturday, he was coming down the hall in his wheelchair. My heart caught in my chest, he looks so frail, so fragile. Just a shell of the vibrant person he used to be. This was the first time he has been out of bed in over 2 months. He got out of bed because he knew I was coming to see him. He was going down the hall looking for me. He didn't want me to see him laying in bed. You see, the last thing I said to him the last time I talked to him was that I was coming soon, that once he got out of the hospital and got to doing better I would be coming to see him. Sure enough, he got out of the hospital a few weeks ago, and started doing better, so I kept my promise, and I went to see him. My mom has been telling him for over a week that I was coming, and my cousin told him Friday night that I was coming Saturday morning, so he knew I was coming.
I had such a wonderful visit with him, so many memories were made. He wasn't back to how he used to be, his voice is very quiet, and my mom and I had to pat him on the back to break up the fluid in his chest every once in a while to get a voice back, but he told me that he didn't have much time left, and he could feel it coming. He got to see Sierra and Ella again. They picked flowers for him and covered him with about 40 yellow and orange flowers and he even let Jimmy take pictures of him (something that he NEVER lets anyone do) I gave him a mini massage he showed me how he could move his fingers on his left hand (something he just started doing within the last few months (he hasn't been able to move anything on his left side since his second stroke over 5 years ago). He was trying to tell me things that I couldn't understand because he has no voice and I couldn't hear him, but all in all we had a great visit. We sat outisde in the beautiful fall weather and just enjoyed some much needed time together. I know that Sierra and Ella are way to young to remember any of this, but my grandpa's day was made by them loving on him even though they really don't know who he is, by them showing his rolly polly's that they found with their cousin (that they had just met for the first time the previous day but were instant best friends). We stayed for almost 2 hours, but they just flew by. I could have stayed all day, but he was tired, it was a lot for him to handle since it was his first time out in a few months. I have a hard time looking at him as a fragile shell of who he used to be. I see him and just want him to start making donald duck voices again, or telling me about how it was when I was groing up and telling him he was my daddy and holding onto his leg, or when I was digging in the backyard when I was like 5 and I couldn't find anymore dirt, or remembering going to the apple carnival thing when I was 13 or so and he introduced me to Toby Keith music. It's not easy to see my big strong grandpa who could defeat anyone and anything because he is all powerful, reduced to a shrivled old man (who isn't old), who needs someone to change his clothes, wipe his mouth, someone to move his hand and wheel him around so that he can get where he needs to go. Someone who has to point at a board to tell you when he needs or wants something because you can't hear him because he can't speak above a muttered whisper. But he is still the same person on the inside, trying to joke around and make faces. Still wanting and needing his family to love him, needing people to talk to, someone to show that yes, they still care about him and he isn't forgotten.
That was probably the best, and worst part of my trip down there. I will never forget the time I got to spend with him this weekend, and there never is enough time when it comes to someone you love.
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