Grandpa Hank

In December, we all flew to Jacksonville to visit with Grandpa Hank. Up until this summer, he was mobile and present. In June, as he was heading to the airport to come and visit us, he fell in his driveway, and everything changed.

This is where he lives now - a longterm recovery home for seniors. If he had mobility, it would be an awesome spot. There's a group of veterans that get together for cards and coffee in the common room, there are TV rooms for him to watch his sports, and there's a beautiful parkette with flowing trees.

But Hank is paralyzed on the right side of his body, so he spends every day trapped here. We tried to brighten the space up by hanging pictures and memorabilia around his room, but there's a limit to what you can do with a shared room and hospital bedding.

Nick got Hank a stuffed moose and a fuzzy blanket so that he could have something soft to touch. Though his arm is pinned down, his fingers can still trace small circles, and the teddy bear has given him something to hold.

Since his fall, Hank's dementia has taken him hostage. At times he recognizes us, but at others he's certain his roommate has planted a bomb in the building. He comes in and out of lucidness like a tennis ball banging the court in a rally. One side of the net is reality, but its counterpart is hell. The longer the rally goes on, the more the two worlds merge and the confusion takes over. We enthusiastically told Hank stories of our lives, but it was hard to say which side of the net he was on. He smiled politely, but then looked out the window and started to cry.

I'll end this post in the immortal words of George Carlin.

The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends.

I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time.

What do you get at the end of it?

A death.

What's that, a bonus?

I think the life cycle is all backwards.

You should die first; get it out of the way.

Then you live in an old age home.

You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch,

you go to work.

You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement.

You drink alcohol, you party,

you get ready for high school.

You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb,

You spend your last nine months floating...

Then you finish off as an orgasm. *** UPDATE On March 4th I woke up from my sleep with tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat, and a soaked pillow. I had been dreaming about my other grandpa, my Gra Gra, who passed away when I was 16. I dreamt that he and I were at my old cottage, sitting by the water on top of the boathouse. I knew that he was dead and I held him and cried because I didn't want to wake up. He told me over and over again that it would be ok. I have never sleep-cried before, and I woke up feeling so sad. Later that day my dad phoned to tell me that Grandpa Hank had passed away.