January 9th, 2008

there!, Hello

the 9:00am phone call I received

"We don't expect you to come home for this," my Mom said almost immediately after telling me that Grampa R. died at around 4:00 am this morning.

The facts in the case are these: yes, I am about 700 miles away from Michigan. Yes, I have a job. Yes, the sentiment is a nice one, but it's also neck deep in horse-puckey. Of course, I'll be returning home "for this". Meaning the funeral and all the things associated with such. She's going to call me tonight with the details.

I feel less sorrow than relief at Grampa R's passing. I love him dearly, and yet these last few years have been pretty awful for him. The Alzheimer's has been getting steadily worse (as is its wont), and he's been living with my Aunt Denise (a nurse) and her family because his second wife is... Not going there. Let's just say "Not able to provide for Grampa's needs" and therefore avoid any unecessary nastiness.

I saw Grampa over holiday, and he did not recognize me at all (though I could tell he wanted to). Still, he managed to mumble his way through Merry Christmas and smile, and I can fool myself into thinking that the Grampa R I recall was still somewhere in those very merry eyes.

I sat next to him while he ate his dinner, and I did get to tell him that the town he grew up in, out here in Massachusetts, still has so many of our distant relations that they know how to spell our family name. I think he liked this fact more than the brownie he was eating at the time.


I miss you, Grampa.
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    sad miserable