Jim and Lorraine
It’s scary to watch your parents, and especially your grandparents, age. I spent this past week in New Jersey with my maternal grandparents and to be entirely honest, I spent most of my time there pretty freaked out.
My eighty-four year-old grandfather has always been a tall, strong man: Korean War vet, retired tile setter, unaffectionate but sweet and loving. My grandmother: petite redhead turned silver, stubborn as anything and ridiculously critical but fiercely caring. The pair has always been there for me, offering support during the heartbreaks and applauding me at every concert, recital and show.
They love me, but I know they don’t understand me most of the time. Part of me thinks it’s the differences in generations, while another part of me wonders if it is simply that we are very different people. They are old fashioned; completely terrified of modern technology and my extremely (in their eyes) liberal mindset. They have been pillars of strength and love throughout my entire life, and it terrifies me to watch them start to crumble before my very eyes.
My grandfather has poor knees, has had several surgeries and grows weaker by the day. He went into the hospital for a respiratory problem, got pneumonia as well and fell when he attempted to do things on his own. He was put on bed rest but grew so weak from it that he is currently still in the hospital, attempting to regain some strength. My grandmother has a pacemaker, had two rotator cuff surgeries, cannot move anything heavier than ten pounds and cannot lift her right arm higher than shoulder level. Both of them have poor eyesight and hearing and until my grandpa’s hospital stay, they were both still driving.
My mom isn’t old but it frightens her even more than it frightens me to see my grandparents aging. I can practically hear the voice in her head asking, “Is that my future? Is that what I will become?” It’s fear, it’s horror, and it’s devastation. Watching the two of them fade away into little wisps, shadows of their former selves, is horribly disturbing and unsettling. I don’t think we realized how truly bad the situation was until our arrival on Tuesday afternoon.
It’s shocking and I think I’m still partially in denial. I suppose I like to think of them as I knew them when I was a little girl. I wish I could freeze time, even though I know it is only postponing the inevitable. But I wish it anyway, if only to hold onto the beautiful memories…
My eighty-four year-old grandfather has always been a tall, strong man: Korean War vet, retired tile setter, unaffectionate but sweet and loving. My grandmother: petite redhead turned silver, stubborn as anything and ridiculously critical but fiercely caring. The pair has always been there for me, offering support during the heartbreaks and applauding me at every concert, recital and show.
They love me, but I know they don’t understand me most of the time. Part of me thinks it’s the differences in generations, while another part of me wonders if it is simply that we are very different people. They are old fashioned; completely terrified of modern technology and my extremely (in their eyes) liberal mindset. They have been pillars of strength and love throughout my entire life, and it terrifies me to watch them start to crumble before my very eyes.
My grandfather has poor knees, has had several surgeries and grows weaker by the day. He went into the hospital for a respiratory problem, got pneumonia as well and fell when he attempted to do things on his own. He was put on bed rest but grew so weak from it that he is currently still in the hospital, attempting to regain some strength. My grandmother has a pacemaker, had two rotator cuff surgeries, cannot move anything heavier than ten pounds and cannot lift her right arm higher than shoulder level. Both of them have poor eyesight and hearing and until my grandpa’s hospital stay, they were both still driving.
My mom isn’t old but it frightens her even more than it frightens me to see my grandparents aging. I can practically hear the voice in her head asking, “Is that my future? Is that what I will become?” It’s fear, it’s horror, and it’s devastation. Watching the two of them fade away into little wisps, shadows of their former selves, is horribly disturbing and unsettling. I don’t think we realized how truly bad the situation was until our arrival on Tuesday afternoon.
It’s shocking and I think I’m still partially in denial. I suppose I like to think of them as I knew them when I was a little girl. I wish I could freeze time, even though I know it is only postponing the inevitable. But I wish it anyway, if only to hold onto the beautiful memories…
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