This morning, for no particular reason, I remembered the last conversation I had with my Grandpa S. He was about to leave his home in New Hampshire for a nursing home in Florida. Florida, with the palm trees he despised.

Keith and I were getting ready to move in and rent his house. I went over the night before he left to say goodbye. We stood, down in a dusty corner of the basement as he attempted to entrust his very particular home maintenance into my unskilled hands. He showed me the fuse box and how to empty the lint trap in the dryer.

We both acted as if he was just going on a short vacation. I think a part of him believed this. Cruel time put a lump in my throat. I tried not to let him see my tears.

Independent, stubborn, prickly, a fierce perfectionist, able to make us laugh until our faces hurt. I often see him in myself. A hard man to love. Loved deeply, nonetheless.


Leslie said...

Oh my. What a beautiful post. And memory. Thank you for sharing.

karen said...

Beautiful post.

I remember my last visit with my grandpa. He had cancer and all of us grandkids were there and we knew he didn't have much time. My parents told me to be strong and not cry. They wanted all of us to act like it was just a regular visit. I couldn't. I kept crying and didn't want to leave. My parents were furious with me.

I hope he realized that I just wanted to acknowledge what was happening and tell him goodbye.