Shed -Before |
Shed -After |
Family Room-After |
I had to buy furniture as what I had in the apartment did not fill the house. I loved my little home. It was where I could go to escape the world.
Family Room -Before |
My parents came down the weekend after Neal's announcement. It was my thirtieth birthday. My Mother was her typical self. I told you so's were heard all weekend. My Dad, was my rock.
I gave them my bedroom as I did not have a spare bed yet and I slept on the floor in the family room. After the lights went out, I cried for hours. I was so stupid to have let him talk me into buying this house together.
Back Yard -Before |
Back Yard -After |
It is not to say Neal disappeared. I saw him at the bowling alley when I bowled. He still called to see if I'd watch Kaitlyn because she missed me. But eventually, I learned to say no.
First Paint Job |
My brother now had two children. My nephew and niece. My niece had just turned two and my brother didn't really come around much. There was a lot of things going on between he and my parents that I was unaware of.
Final Paint Job |
My brother was like my mom. He assumed many things that were not true and he based his decisions on his assumptions. He had one other son in 1992 that I read about in the birth announcements in the newspaper. It was also the way I learned that my brother had died on my Mother's birthday in 2005.
Eighteen years we did not see him or speak to him. Life is too short to let your pride get in the way, but many families are like this.
My paternal grandfather died that year as well. In June, my Dad called to tell me someone had found him in the side yard of his cottage in Harrison, Michigan. He was in the hospital in Clare and I took off immediately to see him.
My paternal grandfather was a free spirit. He wasn't around much for his children and they don't have many memories of him, but he was OK in my book. He didn't come around much, but he always came at Christmas and he always gave us some trinket from the dime store. I cherished my presents from him.
As I got older, I would stop at his cottage to just say hello. At Christmas I always sent him a big box of chocolates as I knew he liked them and I always remembered him on his birthday and holidays. That is just who I am. I even remembered my brother and his children every year when he was not talking to us.
Grandpa must have thought I was top drawer too. He told me the day I had the family reunion at Killer's house that he'd remember me some day because I was the only one who loved him.
I came into the hospital and Dad told me that Grandpa was not acknowledging anyone and would not respond to anything. He just had a blank stare on his face. His girlfriend was there as well as my Mom and Dad.
I walked over to his bedside and his eyes lit up! He reached for my hand and held it with what little strength he had and just beamed while he looked at me. My Dad left the room and went into the hallway. It was the only time I saw my father cry.
I stood there holding my grandfather's hand, talking to him, trying to get him to respond to me, but at the same time, I watched my Father and wondered the heartache he must feel again that his own father was ignoring him. We did not know at the time that my grandfather was upset with my dad over some thing that happened the last time they saw each other. To this day my dad does not know what happened that his father was angry with him.
The therapist came into the room to test Grandpa with flash cards. I helped get him out of bed and in to a wheelchair. I sat up on the window sill squeezed between the window and my grandfather, holding his hand as the therapist flashed the cards, hoping my grandpa would speak and recognize the object on the card.
The first card was a comb. The therapist asked him what it was. Grandpa looked at me and rolled his eyes. The message was clear, he didn't want to play this game. He knew what was on the card, he just couldn't speak so he focused on me.
I went up often to see him when I could get away. I was there just before they transferred him to the nursing home and as always, he lit up when I walked in the room. I would talk for hours about nothing and he would listen. He would nod, he would smile and he'd squeeze my hand if I asked for a reply. I knew he could hear me.
I asked him to talk to me and after a while he did say something, he told me he loved me. It was soft, but I heard the words and he smiled and squeezed my hand. I was so thrilled that he spoke that I ran off to the nurses station to tell them that he had spoken words! But when they returned, he never spoke again.
They put him in a nursing home in St Helen's Michigan. I went to see him often and I'd comb his hair and get him in his wheel chair and take him for a stroll. I'd talk to him for hours and I'd still only get recognition of a smile or a touch of the hand. Grandpa raced motorcycles in his day. He had a Harley the day he died. He was 85 and still rode a hog!
I would talk to him about his days of Jack Pine and the many races that he participated in starting right there in St. Helen. One day, in the parking lot was a shiny new motorcycle. He was like a kid in the candy store. He wanted to go over to the bike. He just stared at it forever. Looking over every detail of it and so curious. I wondered what was going through his mind, memories of his youth?
He was taken to Saginaw General shortly after that visit. Dad called and asked me to drive up. The doctor's wanted to amputate his leg as he was developing gangrene. Dad didn't know what to do. It was not a decision he wanted to make.
I sat and talked to him. This was his Dad and he knew his father would not want to live if they took his leg. Grandpa was all about riding motorcycles, dancing and playing pool. If he recovered from this stroke, he would be devastated to know he would not be able to live his life as he had.
My dad went to talk to the doctor's. I went in to see Grandpa. I knew he could hear me. I knew he listened and so I shared with him what was going on. Dad was not in the room. If he was, Grandpa was reserved.
I explained to him what was going on and the decision to be made. If he could talk at all, now was the time to start chatting. He just smiled and held my hand. I asked him if he wanted to carry through with the operation and his eyes gave me the answer. My eyes were filled with tears. This man who was so full of life was just a mere shadow of his former self. He was so thin and frail. I knew his days were numbered but I wasn't sure if I'd see him again.
I told him I loved him and that he was the best grandpa I could ever ask for. I kissed his fore head and held his hands. Tears rolled down my eyes as he just squeezed my hands and looked at me. It was time to go. It was the last time I saw him. He died three days later.
So 1990 was a year of many changes. I turned thirty. Neal left. My brother stopped talking to the family and my grandfather died. Life happens even when you are not up to the challenge of facing it.
1 comment:
Such a sad change...I almost cried during this one, I am not sure why but this feels like the most heart wrenching one I have read thus far.
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