My Dear Sweet Grandpa

Thoughts for the Day:

After church last night I called home to ask my parents a question. While ending the conversation with my Dad he told me that my Grandpa was taken to the hospital by ambulance and that my mom was with him. After explaining to me that he was having some stomach pain and they were thinking possible blood clot my heart stopped racing. I said something that now I find almost amusing, "Well, glad it's nothing serious like a heart attack". I know that doesn't, on the outside, sound amusing at all but please hear me out.

My Grandpa Frank is 87. At 87 isn't everything serious? A blot clot could be just as detrimental to his health as a heart attack. I just don't look at my Grandpa as a fragile 87 year old man and neither does he. Just the other day he made a comment about the "old geezers" in the bar. My dad asked him, so how old were these guys and his reply..."In their 80's"! Umm, hello?!

My Grandpa fought in WWII and the Korean War. He experienced more in his first 20 years of life than most. My great-grandma and great-grandpa immigrated here from Mexico. My Grandpa didn't just grow up with little he grew up in poverty. My great-grandma worked at a cannery and for some unknown reason asked my great-grandpa to leave. So she raised four children on a warehouse salary. At 16 my Grandpa ran away from home and joined the Navy by lying about his age. Of course, they found out about a year later how old he was and my great-grandma signed a waiver for him to stay.

So there he was 17, being raised by Navy men and fighting a war. My Grandpa doesn't talk much about the war. In the recent years I've learned more then I've known my whole life. I know it's a painful experience for him to relive but I wish I knew more about his history. One story I do know, that made me understand my Grandpa's true personality is heartbreaking.

My Grandpa was on a Navy ship that was attacked and bombed from the Japanese off the coast of Australia. The ship starting sinking but my Grandpa didn't jump. He once told me that in the Navy he was taught, "you don't jump until your shoes are on fire". Well, he took that literally. By the time his shoes were on fire there were no lifesaving devices left and he started to drown. He remembers another solider grabbing him and waking up in the hospital. He wouldn't tell me what, if any, his injuries were but he did tell me he lost his very good friend that day.

In my early years I didn't appreciate the rough, often loud, Grandpa that I had. Honestly, I was scared of him. In the past 10 years he has mellowed out and we have grown close, very close. I used to tease him that he was sending his "child support" to me in college when I'd get $25.o0 every Friday. He, of course, thought I was spending this on food or school things but I spent it on beer or pizza. He always made a point to call around 9PM on Saturday night, knowing exactly that I was getting ready to go out, to talk.

I've learned that although he may not have been the softest husband and father he was a hard worker. My mom often tells stories about how he worked shift work at the paper mill for years and then he'd come home and mow the acres of grass or till the garden. He coached several state-champion little league teams, played tennis and bowled. In fact, he still beats my mom bowling and gives her "pointers". Although I've watched him age in appearance I've never seen his physical abilities stray. Not until recently that is.

In the past 3 years his steps are slower. His back is a little hunched over and his eyes look a little more tired. He's had both knees replaced and although I know it brought him great relief it didn't put the pep back in his step. (Disclaimer: If you were at my wedding and watched him dance for 4 hours straight, please know the next day he couldn't get off the couch!) Now don't get me wrong, he still mows and rakes the yard, shovels the driveway and goes for walks but it takes a few days now to complete these tasks. I suggested once he hire a college student to do these tasks and he said to me, "Well what the hell am I good for then?". It's heartbreaking to know that someday he won't be able to do these things anymore, the things that make him feel useful.

We've built this connection. When the day comes that my Grandpa passes I will be able to cherish the weekly letters, cards and phone calls. I'll never forget going to Twins games with him, dancing for him in the living room (I had quite the choreography skills in 2nd grade) and debating politics with him. I'll miss him. I'll cry but I'll know that my Grandpa loved his "dear sweet Megan". I hope someday that my final words to him will be,"Love you dear sweet Grandpa. May God bless and take care of you" just like his words have been to me at the end of every phone call we've ever had.