_______ with grandpa
Grandpa's 95th birthday parties were Friday in Seattle. There was one just after lunch at the seniors' group home where he lives with five others, and one later that night at my cousin's husband's restaurant, El Greco in Capital Hill. Photos and more about the party, maybe, in another post. This one's about something else.
Sunday afternoon, aunt Cheryl and I went to grandpa's home to visit with him for awhile before Cheryl departed for home (NYC). Towards the end of that visit, he patted me on the knee and said "It's been a great day...it's always sparkling when you're here!" This is a side of him my mother spent decades viciously mocking and deriding him for not having, as though it were somehow his own stupid fault. As though it were true. It was never true. Just because she never saw it - couldn't or wouldn't or didn't want to see it - never meant it wasn't there.
Aunt Cheryl left that night, on the same redeye flight to Nork I'd be taking the next night.
Monday, I drove out to grandpa's home again. I arrived just ahead of the music therapist, who reminded me a little of my elementary school music teacher. She brought an autoharp and a big bag of instruments - a guiro, some bells on a leather strap, a tambourine, and others. She sang hello to the five assembled residents, then engaged them in a series of music-based activities. Grandpa was particularly good at finish-the-lyric, and carried on singing some of them. I'd never seen or heard him sing before, ever, and it moved me to quiet tears as I watched him singing about K'-k'-k'-Katy and the k'-k'-k'-kitchen door, and a bicycle built for two. Then it was time to play along to the music, and grandpa can not only carry a tune, but keep rhythm, too. He had a little trouble hearing the song, I think; I was sitting across the room from him, so I tapped my boot and he accurately hit the tambourine every two out of three beats of the fast waltz. This, too, is a side of grandpa mother swore didn't exist. She'll never see him sing. I find that grievously sad for her.
After music-lady left, grandpa and I went back to his room. It was time for The Talk. I've been meaning to have The Talk with him for a couple of years now, yet unable to bring myself to do it. It had to be this time; he's a great deal frailer than he was last year. Now he uses a wheelchair and 24-hour oxygen. So it was time for The Talk.
There's never been any point prevaricating or euphemising with grandpa. He sees right through that kind of bullshit. So I got right to the point.
Me in red
Grandpa in italics
Grandpa, it seems to me in our society we're not supposed to talk about getting old, or death, or dying. It's this big taboo, and we're supposed to pretend it doesn't exist, and we don't talk about it until it's too late, and then we spend the rest of our lives regretting it.
Uh-huh...you're right. It's backwards, isn't it.
When E.W. died, I didn't get a chance to talk to him before he went away, and then it was too late. I referred to my father - Edward Willis Stern - the way grandpa had for decades, until my mother declared "E.W." unacceptable for probably-spurious reasons.
Yah...uh-huh. That's not so good.
So I want you to know that it's a joy, an honour, and a privilege to be part of your family. I've always felt that way, and I always will. Sweating and trembling with effort and emotion, I had to wrench the words from my throat one at a time. Most of them took several tries before I could get them out.
Thanks, Dan...I've always been dee-lighted to have you around, too! And I'm glad you included me and introduced your partner Bill. He's tee-rific. I guess you must've been...oh, I donno...fifteen or sixteen when you told me you understood you're - he searched for a word - homo or whatever we'll say, and I'm glad you could include me. Bill's a fine guy.
I was a little older than that - about 23. I agree about Bill. I'm keepin' him around. And I hope you'll stick around as long as you want to, too.
Oh...any time now'd be OK with me. I'm pretty much done, there's not much left for me to hang around for. He wasn't complaining of his losses or handicaps or lamenting his lot at all, just expressing himself clearly and matter-of-factly. I thought immediately of the spoken-word section of Pink Floyd's "Great Gig in the Sky" from "Dark Side of the Moon".
That must be hard...Belle's gone, most of your friends have gone...though Dan Lyon and Dan Healy are still around, so that's a help, eh? I referred to grandma and to two of his friends.
Oh, yah...Dan Healy picks me up here and takes me over to the office from time to time...though I haven't been over there in...gee, I guess this is the longest I've gone in quite awhile without makin' it over there.
Grandpa, what do you suppose happens to our minds when we die?
He nodded and smiled at me. I wonder about that often. I don't know. I really can't see any kind of...reincarnation. I've just never seen it. This earth...I donno, I just don't see how that kind of re-generation is possible. And I don't think life was...ordained. I think it just happened as part of what is. So I donno.
But maybe there's some other kind of existence...somewhere else.
Yah, could be. Have to wait and see!
I had some real good conversations with E.W. after he died, in my dreams at night.
Oh, uh-huh! That's real good.
Do me a favour? Whenever you get there, wherever "there" might be...say hello to 'im for me, willya?
Righto...will do!
You know, you continue to amaze me, grandpa. I'd never seen you sing before this afternoon!
Oh...did I sing?
Yeah, just a few minutes ago, when the music lady was here. You were singing about K'-k'-k'-Katy and the k'-k'-k'-kitchen door. What other activities do you do here?
Oh...I donno...I just go along with whatever's happening...I don't keep track of it. They could come for me any time now and it'd be OK. Meanwhile I'll just go along with whatever comes along. He wasn't expressing an immediate wish to die or complaining of boredom, just saying any time's okay and until then, he'll sing and eat oatmeal cookies and do whatever else there is to do.
Well, the fish at...uh...what's that place in BC where you go fishing?
River's Inlet. Though I don't have plans to do much fishing this year.
Right, the fish at River's Inlet might be relieved, but the rest of us are going to miss you, y'know? It's a little cliché and I don't mean to sound trite, but...you're ninety-five. You must've picked up some pretty good wisdom along the way. Certainly you've always inspired me. I'm only thirty-two. Got any particular nuggets of wisdom to share with me?
No...huh-uh. I learned stuff as I went along, obviously, but I never really thought of it as inspirational material or nuggets of wisdom...besides, whatever I learned was applicable to me. I donno how helpful it'd be to you.
Just kinda...go along and live with getting experience right after I need it, eh?
Right! *chuckle*
Well, that makes sense. So how're those oatmealers I brought over the other day?
Mmm...they're OK, but not crunchy enough for dunking. They're too mushy. And next time maybe better without raisins.
Okay, well, we'll just call these 'oatmeal cookies' rather than oatmealers, and I'll try for oatmealers next time. Maybe if I use regular rolled oats instead of quick ones.
Yah, uh-huh...and take a ball of dough and compress it in your hands into sort of a lozenge shape.
Oh, is that better than putting the ball of dough on the cookie sheet and flattening it with a spatula?
Yah.
Okay, it's a deal. I'll keep on practising until I get it right, then I'll send you the results.
Righto!
I noticed he was drooping a little.
Is it getting on for naptime?
Oh, I'm good at napping! I don't do much else these days. I've got this...uh...what do you call this chair?
Recliner?
Right...when I first got it, I figured out how to raise the footrest and tilt back, but didn't realise there's a lever on the side to put it back down...so I was kind of in a pickle when I wanted to get up! Good thing I figured it out.
I'll say...or you might still be stuck!
Hey...you want to take a few of those oatmeal cookies? It'll draw the supply down so you'll have to make me another batch. *chuckle*
Sure. I'll take three of 'em with me.
Sure has been dee-lightful having you out here...best visit ever, I think.
I'm so glad I could share your birthday with you!
I'll see you next visit, then.
Count on it! I love you, grandpa.
Yah...uh-huh! You too.
Sunday afternoon, aunt Cheryl and I went to grandpa's home to visit with him for awhile before Cheryl departed for home (NYC). Towards the end of that visit, he patted me on the knee and said "It's been a great day...it's always sparkling when you're here!" This is a side of him my mother spent decades viciously mocking and deriding him for not having, as though it were somehow his own stupid fault. As though it were true. It was never true. Just because she never saw it - couldn't or wouldn't or didn't want to see it - never meant it wasn't there.
Aunt Cheryl left that night, on the same redeye flight to Nork I'd be taking the next night.
Monday, I drove out to grandpa's home again. I arrived just ahead of the music therapist, who reminded me a little of my elementary school music teacher. She brought an autoharp and a big bag of instruments - a guiro, some bells on a leather strap, a tambourine, and others. She sang hello to the five assembled residents, then engaged them in a series of music-based activities. Grandpa was particularly good at finish-the-lyric, and carried on singing some of them. I'd never seen or heard him sing before, ever, and it moved me to quiet tears as I watched him singing about K'-k'-k'-Katy and the k'-k'-k'-kitchen door, and a bicycle built for two. Then it was time to play along to the music, and grandpa can not only carry a tune, but keep rhythm, too. He had a little trouble hearing the song, I think; I was sitting across the room from him, so I tapped my boot and he accurately hit the tambourine every two out of three beats of the fast waltz. This, too, is a side of grandpa mother swore didn't exist. She'll never see him sing. I find that grievously sad for her.
After music-lady left, grandpa and I went back to his room. It was time for The Talk. I've been meaning to have The Talk with him for a couple of years now, yet unable to bring myself to do it. It had to be this time; he's a great deal frailer than he was last year. Now he uses a wheelchair and 24-hour oxygen. So it was time for The Talk.
There's never been any point prevaricating or euphemising with grandpa. He sees right through that kind of bullshit. So I got right to the point.
Me in red
Grandpa in italics
Grandpa, it seems to me in our society we're not supposed to talk about getting old, or death, or dying. It's this big taboo, and we're supposed to pretend it doesn't exist, and we don't talk about it until it's too late, and then we spend the rest of our lives regretting it.
Uh-huh...you're right. It's backwards, isn't it.
When E.W. died, I didn't get a chance to talk to him before he went away, and then it was too late. I referred to my father - Edward Willis Stern - the way grandpa had for decades, until my mother declared "E.W." unacceptable for probably-spurious reasons.
Yah...uh-huh. That's not so good.
So I want you to know that it's a joy, an honour, and a privilege to be part of your family. I've always felt that way, and I always will. Sweating and trembling with effort and emotion, I had to wrench the words from my throat one at a time. Most of them took several tries before I could get them out.
Thanks, Dan...I've always been dee-lighted to have you around, too! And I'm glad you included me and introduced your partner Bill. He's tee-rific. I guess you must've been...oh, I donno...fifteen or sixteen when you told me you understood you're - he searched for a word - homo or whatever we'll say, and I'm glad you could include me. Bill's a fine guy.
I was a little older than that - about 23. I agree about Bill. I'm keepin' him around. And I hope you'll stick around as long as you want to, too.
Oh...any time now'd be OK with me. I'm pretty much done, there's not much left for me to hang around for. He wasn't complaining of his losses or handicaps or lamenting his lot at all, just expressing himself clearly and matter-of-factly. I thought immediately of the spoken-word section of Pink Floyd's "Great Gig in the Sky" from "Dark Side of the Moon".
That must be hard...Belle's gone, most of your friends have gone...though Dan Lyon and Dan Healy are still around, so that's a help, eh? I referred to grandma and to two of his friends.
Oh, yah...Dan Healy picks me up here and takes me over to the office from time to time...though I haven't been over there in...gee, I guess this is the longest I've gone in quite awhile without makin' it over there.
Grandpa, what do you suppose happens to our minds when we die?
He nodded and smiled at me. I wonder about that often. I don't know. I really can't see any kind of...reincarnation. I've just never seen it. This earth...I donno, I just don't see how that kind of re-generation is possible. And I don't think life was...ordained. I think it just happened as part of what is. So I donno.
But maybe there's some other kind of existence...somewhere else.
Yah, could be. Have to wait and see!
I had some real good conversations with E.W. after he died, in my dreams at night.
Oh, uh-huh! That's real good.
Do me a favour? Whenever you get there, wherever "there" might be...say hello to 'im for me, willya?
Righto...will do!
You know, you continue to amaze me, grandpa. I'd never seen you sing before this afternoon!
Oh...did I sing?
Yeah, just a few minutes ago, when the music lady was here. You were singing about K'-k'-k'-Katy and the k'-k'-k'-kitchen door. What other activities do you do here?
Oh...I donno...I just go along with whatever's happening...I don't keep track of it. They could come for me any time now and it'd be OK. Meanwhile I'll just go along with whatever comes along. He wasn't expressing an immediate wish to die or complaining of boredom, just saying any time's okay and until then, he'll sing and eat oatmeal cookies and do whatever else there is to do.
Well, the fish at...uh...what's that place in BC where you go fishing?
River's Inlet. Though I don't have plans to do much fishing this year.
Right, the fish at River's Inlet might be relieved, but the rest of us are going to miss you, y'know? It's a little cliché and I don't mean to sound trite, but...you're ninety-five. You must've picked up some pretty good wisdom along the way. Certainly you've always inspired me. I'm only thirty-two. Got any particular nuggets of wisdom to share with me?
No...huh-uh. I learned stuff as I went along, obviously, but I never really thought of it as inspirational material or nuggets of wisdom...besides, whatever I learned was applicable to me. I donno how helpful it'd be to you.
Just kinda...go along and live with getting experience right after I need it, eh?
Right! *chuckle*
Well, that makes sense. So how're those oatmealers I brought over the other day?
Mmm...they're OK, but not crunchy enough for dunking. They're too mushy. And next time maybe better without raisins.
Okay, well, we'll just call these 'oatmeal cookies' rather than oatmealers, and I'll try for oatmealers next time. Maybe if I use regular rolled oats instead of quick ones.
Yah, uh-huh...and take a ball of dough and compress it in your hands into sort of a lozenge shape.
Oh, is that better than putting the ball of dough on the cookie sheet and flattening it with a spatula?
Yah.
Okay, it's a deal. I'll keep on practising until I get it right, then I'll send you the results.
Righto!
I noticed he was drooping a little.
Is it getting on for naptime?
Oh, I'm good at napping! I don't do much else these days. I've got this...uh...what do you call this chair?
Recliner?
Right...when I first got it, I figured out how to raise the footrest and tilt back, but didn't realise there's a lever on the side to put it back down...so I was kind of in a pickle when I wanted to get up! Good thing I figured it out.
I'll say...or you might still be stuck!
Hey...you want to take a few of those oatmeal cookies? It'll draw the supply down so you'll have to make me another batch. *chuckle*
Sure. I'll take three of 'em with me.
Sure has been dee-lightful having you out here...best visit ever, I think.
I'm so glad I could share your birthday with you!
I'll see you next visit, then.
Count on it! I love you, grandpa.
Yah...uh-huh! You too.