rivervision

Update 13 jan. he died this afternoon, peacefully. i won’t be going to the funeral, i’ll just stay here. me not going to his funeral is not a reflection on how much i love him.
UPDATE: 7 jan. according to my family back east my grandfather ‘pulled a lazarus‘.. we were all sure he was going, but a day off all medication to try to fix things let his body fix it and he was up and walking around 36 hours after i went to say good-bye. i sensed there was still a bit of his bullheaded self when i went to visit still there, i just didn’t guess there was much as there was. according to my brother he is drinking milk shakes and cokes, recognizing my mother and sleeping a lot. no one knows how long he is for this world and if i get a call that he’s died tomorrow i won’t be surprised. although i’ll be sad for us, i won’t be sad for him. he’s lived a long life, he was well loved, and yet he had his struggles. it sounds, though, that he’s at peace now and i couldn’t wish for anything more for this time of his life. i couldn’t wish for anything more during this time in anyone’s life.

90 and some odd-months ago these two people:

had a son. before that they had 2 daughters, and after that they had 2 daughters, but smack dab in the middle they had a son, and they named him austin.

eventually, under the constant attention and protection of his four sisters, austin grew up, and married louise.

and soon dianne came along.

and after eons (in human years, mind you), dianne had 2 kids, one of whom was me.

on tuesday i made the most difficult visit to a nursing home i’ve ever made in my life. okay, lets face it, on tuesday i made one of the most difficult visits with someone i’ve ever made in my life, nursing home or not. on tuesday, 29 december 2009, as many were preparing to ring in a new year, my grandfather was (and as i write this still is) living his final days on this earth, and i went to visit him to say good-bye.

i didn’t stay long. and, to be honest, i didn’t have the courage i saw my father have – my dad walked right up to gepa’s face, held his hand, touched his forehead, looked into his eyes and hummed “amazing grace” to the man who became his second father. and for about 30 seconds gepa came back to this side of the veil. i could only get as far as his legs, to sit on his bed and put my hands on his legs and say the lords prayer to him and when i said it, for just a few seconds he came back again to this side but then quickly left again.

the body that lay in the bed was hard for me to look at and the excuse i have for not staying long is that i didn’t want to remember him that way and because i needed to get back to my life i was able to cut my stay with him short. the body that lay in the bed only held a smidge of the soul that was my grandfather and it simply hurt too much to know that most of his bullheaded self had already left us. the images i wanted burned in my mind were not of that, but instead of this:

or like this:

or even like this – on my visit to him just 7 weeks prior:

i wanted, instead, to be able to keep strong memories of a grandfather who loved me more than i could ever imagine. he was the one who took us to putt-putt golf, to the water slides, to the naval beaches at virginia beach more times than i can remember. he was the one who made me waffles every morning and because i loved him so much i didn’t care that my waffles were always burned a little bit. he was the one who called my mother ‘dick’, my brother ‘bunk sweeney’ and me ’sally goodpuddin’.. he had a nickname for everyone, and i think i got that from him because i affectionately started calling him ‘geezer man’ in these last years of his life. i’m sure he knew it was a name of affection as i knew that when i heard ’sally!’ being called after me that it was simply a verbal hug.

when i talk about where i come from i always mention being from the south [note, when i refer to the south - i mean the south east US - virginia, tennessee, georgia, n & s carolina, alabama, mississippi, etc..]. no, i don’t consider myself a true southerner though. i don’t consider myself a true southerner because my father and his kin are from the northeast — rhode island, new jersey, new york – having immigrated from quebec and england in recent US and distant US history. and i was raised in a small college town, among academics — which insulated me from developing a southern accent and fully being immersed in the southern culture. my mother, even without a southern accent (she was an army brat and grew up all over the country), is a southerner. and when i talk about coming from the south it is because of my grandfather and his kin (along with my grandmother and her kin) that i get to use that honorable label. yes, at meals there was always okra (my mom loves the stuff), and invariably black-eyed peas, cornbread, and other southern delicacies. it was because of my grandfather and his kin (along with my grandmother and her kin) that i can speak a bit of southern. another reason i will always love him, and be grateful that *he* is my grandfather.

it was a selfish reason. i think he needed me to stay, as the one christian in the immediate family i should have stayed and read scriptures to him to remind him that this isn’t the end, but i didn’t. i’m not going to beat myself up for not staying. i did what i needed to do for me, i guess i’m writing this to put an apology into the winds to my grandfather for him to maybe get as he continues his transition. i’m certain he’ll understand.