I had the
privilege of doing something this week few 40 year olds have the privilege of
doing. I was able to spend time with my last two living grandparents. My 90,
soon to be 91 year old, grandfather from my paternal side and my 87 year old maternal
grandmother. To be in the presence of these two individuals, at separate times,
this week was overwhelming. My grandpa and grandma have seen me throughout
every phase of my life and lived so much history of their own. They are— after
all— members of the Greatest Generation. What they mean to me and my family is
indescribable. And to have them with us —still— as they are entering their
final years— is an immeasurable blessing.
One of my
aunt’s drove my grandfather from Southern Ohio to visit for the day. It had
been at least seven years since my dad’s dad had been up to my parents’ home. My
grandfather doesn’t like to leave his house for any length of time. He usually
prefers his back porch with the fan blowing on him and his view of the creek
bank. Although the view is dimming with the condition of his macular
degeneration in his eyes, it is, as it always has been, the place that brings
him comfort. I’m glad he was willing to exchange his environment for the day to
share it with my family. I sat and listened for hours as my grandpa shared
stories from a long time ago and provided his opinion of the direction the country
seems to be is going. He shared advice that might help our President and Congress
members get out of domestic and international troubles. He spoke about the war
(in which he had an all too intimate account as a tank driver and purple heart recipient)
and talked about his wife, my grandmother, whom we lost over 14 years ago. He
described the frustrations of getting older. But believe it or not, for the
amount of tough topics that were covered in conversation, most of the day was
filled with smiles and laughter.
On Thursday
of this same week— I got to spend time with my mom’s mom. We went on a drive to
find one of the many houses her and my grandfather had lived. (My grandfather
passed away a year and a half ago.) The house we decided to visit was a small
country drive away. When we turned on the former road my grandparents had
lived, the houses looked different than I remembered. It appeared on a much
smaller scale than it had existed in my mind. The plot of land they owned
dwarfed by other homes on either side — their property used to be so vast. Once
cows had pastured behind the fence row, but progress had long since replaced
the pasture with a string of newer homes. My grandmother and I even turned
around and passed by the old house again to make sure it was the right location.
And before we returned to her current home we stopped at the ice cream store.
Not the one we had stopped at decades before, it was closed in lieu of a newer,
fancier structure just down the road. We did, however, eat an ice cream cone and
in that moment we were transported back in time. In the car as we savored the
summer treat the only reminder of the years that had passed was the fact I was
the one in the driver’s seat. Grandma and I reminisced about time gone by. It
was nostalgic on so many levels.
Like so
many other families in the midst of navigating the rough waters of aging loved
ones—we, as a family, face challenges as my grandparents’ health decreases. And
as my grandparents’ health decreases, in turn, certain tasks increase for those
family members that are providing care and transportation, but family takes
care of their own. And as my grandparents have taken care of their children (my
parents) and as they have chipped in when their grandchildren needed babysitting
or a special favor, we are taking care of them. This week I am thankful for a
generation I have been fortunate to know and I am reminded that time is our
greatest gift we give to those we care.
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