To say that this caused me no alarm may sound insensitive, but you have to understand, if ever there was a man on earth with nine lives, it's Walter. He defied odds you never knew existed until you watched as he stomped every statistic into the ground. My grandpa, is a fighter and well, rather stubborn to be honest.
I've referenced my grandpa Walter once before in my blog, when I channeled him on a rant about silly things that bother me and I suppose you would have to know him to truly understand, but if you do know him, that bit was rather humorous.
That's one of the many things I must have inherited from him, my sarcasm.
One time I was standing on a stool in the kitchen helping my grandma make dinner when I lost my footing and tumbled backwards. My grandpa ran straight into the kitchen as my grandma screamed, "Are you okay?!", my grandpa quickly added, "I'm not worried about her, how's my floor!?" At the time I didn't appreciate his remark, until I grew into my own smart ass jeans and was old enough to begin responding.
Hell, the man's been calling me a 'lefty' since I was five years old and until freshman year I was always deeply insulted, I am after all right handed. Turns out that was his way of calling me a liberal. (Yeah, I guess he had me pegged at a young age.) Boy did my grandpa and I used to argue! About EVERYTHING! Mostly my third grade math homework, my inability to be on time (thanks mom), politics and of course my hatred for vegetables. He always challenged me, made me think harder, work harder, try harder and have more of an open mind, even if it was just a plate of green beans. My grandpa taught me how to have tough skin, something I would have never made it through my childhood sandwiched between two brothers, let alone high school, without.
My grandpa taught me how to appreciate the moments you have, when you have them. When my brothers and I were younger, every Wednesday, rain or shine my grandpa picked us up from school. We LOVED Wednesday's! We always went to Perkins or Village Inn for a slice of pie and grandpa would get a cup of coffee. It was a simple tradition, but it is something that my grandpa, brothers and I will share forever. A tradition, that as we got older, didn't seem as much a priority to us as it was to him and my grandma.
How I wish we could turn back time.
My grandpa taught me how to fish. How to play and trade wisely on The Oregon Trail. He taught me how to have patience and when to hold my tongue. He taught me how to listen; a most valuable lesson that would have come in handy one summer night at the park when I almost killed my grandma with a boomerang. A lesson that may still be in the works, but he helped lay the ground work for. He taught me the importance of being on time and unfortunately he was right about the importance of eating my vegetables.
Of all the moments I remember with my grandpa, my favorite always took place after dinner. First my grandma would give all of us kids a bath, I can still smell the soap and I often watch my cousins as they play with the same bath toys I once did. Then we'd have a bowl of ice cream and crawl into bed. My grandpa would read to us, and if he wasn't reading to us, he was playing his guitar and though he never pursued a career in music, I think he'd give good ol' Johnny Cash a run for his money.
When I got home, my mom welcomed me with a hug and this time when I sat down on the couch and my dad explained that my grandpa was sick, I knew it was different, we all did. My grandpa had been admitted to the hospital just the day before and from that day on everything I had planned to do when I returned home, changed. Later in the week after my grandpa's pain was finally under control he returned home under hospice care. The man I saw was not sick, he was just regular old Walter, defying the odds again and Walter had one BIG dream, to go fishing in the Gulf of Mexico. AND some how, some way, we pulled together, and in a matter of days, managed to give my grandpa this one last thing, as a family.
Before he left for Florida, my grandpa gave me his old guitar.
Out of tune and covered in dust, it was one of the most meaningful gifts I have ever received. I have no idea how to play and my hands are almost too small for it, but when I do learn, and I will, it's just one more thing my grandpa will have taught me.
I am more than happy to report that my grandpa not only made it to Florida, but fished in the Gulf and enjoyed wonderful company. Unfortunately, yesterday we learned that my grandpa won't be returning home to Colorado, he's been admitted to a Hospice in Pensacola and each day he's slipping away more and more. In my life I have never before experienced death, but in the last three weeks, we have been able to prepare for it as a family. My grandpa is comfortable and he has said he's ready to go home. The hardest part is accepting that and saying goodbye, but regardless of when he goes home, no one can ever take away those Wednesday afternoons or all that he has taught me; the moments and lessons I will cherish for the rest of my life.
When I graduated from high school my grandpa wrote me a letter; the two most important things he told me were, to take time to smell the roses and to always follow my heart. A month ago, on January 21st I wrote, "I know to the very core of my being, sub-conscious and all, that home is exactly where I need to be right now."
I am so very grateful that I listened.
This one's for you grandpa, with all the love in my (lefty) heart,
Your Pretty Girl- Kelcer
I'll be playing for you.
