San Antonio...and grandpa

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.

Grandpa...tell me 'bout the good old days...

Yes that is a Judd's song, my favorite of all time.  Not because it is catchy, not because they sing it really really good, not because of anything other than it is my grandpa and my song.  As far back as I can remember, I would always say "Grandpa" in that way when he would say something really silly like carrots (caruts is how he would say it, you see my grandpa is from England and that is how he talked and it was a running joke between us to get him to say carrots, bear and scrunchies, that was my favorite), and I would say "Grandpa" and he would always finish with "tell me 'bout the good old days" and not just say it, he would sing it to me, every single time.  Every time I talked to him on the phone, say him in person, that was our thing, no one else's.  I can't hear that song without thinking of my grandpa.

5 years ago, my grandpa had a stroke.  He was found on the floor in his bedroom by my aunt (great aunt, his sister) when he didn't show up to church on Sunday morning and he didn't call her or answer the phone when she tried to call him.  We found out later he had been laying on the floor for 24 hours before she found him.  The fire department couldn't get in to him right away because of the bars on his door and windows, but they finally got in.  I will always remember the phone call from my mom telling me he had a stroke, he was at the hospital and she was on her way to check on him.  He recovered from the stroke almost completely within a few weeks I think it was, and then he started having strokes again.  I think he had 6 or 7 of them total.  We were told he would never be back to himself again.  He would never walk again, he would never be able to be on his own again, might never eat again.  My grandpa wasn't my grandpa anymore, he was a shell of the person he used to be.  But he was still my grandpa.  It took him some time to get used to the fact that he was going to have to stay in a nursing home for the rest of his life, he went through depression, anxiety, hallucinations that someone was trying to kill him (he has no mobility or feeling in his right arm, and it would flop over him during the night and he thought it was a person), acceptance, back to depression, back to acceptance and so on.  It has been a roller coaster ride with him, but every time I go see him, I will always get him to say carrots, bear, and scrunchies (my absolute favorite because he says it skrungies) and I will always say "Grandpa" and he will say "tell me 'bout the good old days" even though you can't fully understand him.  He is always in good spirits, joking around, making everyone laugh even when he is hurting.  The last time I talked to him I told him that I was going to come see him, but he had to get out of the hospital first, and he said, "I did, but you didn't come so I came back!"  He was only out for a day, then had to be re-admitted for pneumonia again.  He has decided that there will be no more hospital trips for him, and he told the nurses that he is ready to die, he is tired, he has been fighting for a long time.  I can't say that I blame him, he can't even get out of bed anymore, I don't know if I would have lasted as long, but I am greedy, I want my grandpa, I need my grandpa.

I don't think I am fully ready for the day that he isn't here with us anymore, even typing that tears me apart, he has been more than a grandpa to me, he was a father when I didn't have one, a disciplinarian when I needed one, a protector when I didn't want one, and everything I needed when I didn't know I needed it.  I keep telling myself that I am ready, and I will be able to handle it when he goes, but I know I am not ready, I know I will handle it because God will never give me more than I can handle, but it won't be easy.  For as long as I live, there will be so many things that remind me of him, the name Billy (his "twin" brother that used to scare the daylights out of me as a kid), brown paper bags (he used to play with an invisable ball and catch it in the brown paper bag), Toby Keith (he introduced me to Toby Keith music and got me a cassette tape of his), McHammer (he used to make me mix tapes and send them to me all the time), potatoes, (his favorite food in the whole world), cheese (he HATES cheese and I always tease him that I will make him potatoes and he gets all excited, and then I tell him I will put lots and lots of cheese on it and he always says "gross!!!" and then we all crack up).  I know there will come a day where he will not be here, and when I go to San Antonio to visit my mom and grandma, I won't go to the nursing home to see him and it will be so weird, and I won't be asking her how grandpa is anymore and it will take a lot of getting used to because I talk to her almost every day and I always ask how he is doing and what is the lastest on him.  I know there will be a day that I hear that song on the radio and just burst into tears because he won't be there to say "tell me 'bout the good old days" anymore.  But I know that he will be better off, he won't be in that nursing home anymore, he won't be tired anymore, and he will be happy.  I will see him again someday when it happens, but for now, I will stick to calling him and mom translating our conversation and sending hugs and kisses (on the cheek always on the cheek becuase that is just the way he is) and cherish the time I have left with my wonderful grandpa, who will tell me 'bout the good old days