To My Grandpa

“Good-bye my friend. You’re in good hands now” said one of his VA memory center care-givers, offered a hug, and closed the door. And that’s just how special he was, in four years, in fact the first few months, he had turned his care-givers into his friends. He got to be himself, a tad bit care-free, no longer worried or burdened with the stresses of the real world, but in fact living with a purpose, where everyone who crossed his path got to know his heart, and his jokes of course. 

For those who do know and for those who don’t know my grandpa or his story, it is quite special, filled with tribulation, and love. He was a soldier in the Vietnam War, where he became highly decorated. The stories he has shared leave you in awe. The unwilling sacrifice he went through and the experiences he now has leave you wondering, shocked, saddened, and fascinated.  

He returned home, where he suffered from PTSD, struggled with alcoholism, and felt the effects of COPD, dementia, and other limiting circumstances and health issues. In the midst of all the amazing memories I made with him as a kid, oblivious and naive to his struggles, I got to know his heart, his laugh, his uniqueness, and passion for life. 

About 4 years ago, my grandpa was not physically and mentally healthy. We were no longer seeing him regularly, him and my grandma were divorced, and we weren’t fully aware that he was struggling from dementia. He was no longer really the person I had known him to be. Truthfully, most of our connections and memories to him had kind of been tarnished. 

To this day, and probably ever, will I understand or grasp how perfectly everything fell into place, but my grandpa was granted the last bed available at the VA memory care center in Topeka, in a time where his living options were limited. We knew we were lucky when he was accepted among 2 other applicants, but we had no idea really how lucky we were, that for the next 4 years he was going to be loved and cared for by a staff who got to know him as if they had forever. They shared their lives with him, they shared their families with him, and in return he did the same. They loved him as one of his own, he became a friend, not a patient. 

Because of this place, I got to re-know my grandpa again. My mom and him got to reconnect and create a bond stronger than what it was before, and because of this place, I was able to see him no longer as a hurt to others, in a society that had scammed him, and burdened him with tasks he was no longer capable of completing, but as a help and as an amazing friend to others. 

I got to know and remember my grandpa, once again, for who I had always known him as. 

When I think of my grandpa, I see him sitting at the corner of the counter in my grandparents kitchen, silver mechanical pencil in hand, whistling and humming, pondering over a crossword. I would open the garage door and always say “surprise”, followed by his gasp, acting oh-so surprised, and a hug. Not long after would he shuffle over to the pantry and show me a fun new snack he found at the store. 

When I think of my grandpa I hear his humming, his singing. The drum of his fingers. Being able to make trumpet sounds with his mouth, talking like donald duck, and then responding with his own voice acting like they were  in a full blown conversation with one another. 

When I think of my grandpa, I smell his homemade pasta sauce on Christmas Eve, mixed with the strong smell of his cologne. I see him standing over the stove making blueberry pancakes before I would go to school with grandma for the day. I see him taking me to the backyard to pick the peaches off his tree or mixing me a lemonade to sit on the back patio porch swing. 

When I think of my grandpa, I think of my favorite movie, ‘Dances with Wolves’ and how I covered  my eyes for all the parts I didn’t like the first time I watched it with him. I credit him for my fascination and interest in history, Native American culture, and war stories. I am thankful for the time I did get to have with him, to hear his own personal war stories, to now have the opportunity to keep them alive, for my own kids to know them, to know him.

When I think of my grandpa I think of his storytelling. Yes, the stories were always great, but in the ways he told them, so animated and full of expression. I learned to love them even more when I only got to see him every once in a while. He may have lost parts of his memory and the little details of stories but he never failed to make you laugh, to add his own sense of humor to each one. He loved to make people laugh and in return, many will tell you when they think of him they will tell you they see him laughing and throwing his hands in the air.

When I think of my grandpa I think of a lot of things, but as his core, I think of his heart. I think of the way he loved the other veterans in his wing. The way he pushed his buddy each week to church and fed him communion. I think of how he treated his caregivers, how he tested them with his orneriness, and how he made them smile. I think of the silly gifts he would send us each Christmas, like winter gloves and deodorant, I think of the paintings and pictures he colored for us, I think of how he became a pen pal with one of his doctor’s daughters. 

Throughout his life he had made many mistakes, he was struggling with emotional and physical pain for a lot of it, and during a period of his life our connection to him had seemed to be lost. But because of my grandpa, I feel thankful, I know the importance of forgiveness, I know to see the good in people, I have learned that you are not the things that have happened to you, and you will not be remembered for how right you are, or what you have, but for how you loved.

My grandpa entered the memory care center with basically no one and nothing, stubborn, and upset with his current situation. But he was himself, which meant he loved, he wanted to make you laugh, he wanted to talk your ear off, and that’s how he will be remembered, to me, to my family, and to those who got the opportunity to care for him. 

As I held his hand yesterday, for the last time, I felt at peace knowing how he got to finish his life, by being loved and giving love to others. Every doctor that came to see us yesterday told us, reminded us, shared with us, that “ he was an incredible man”. He got to go surrounded by those who knew him best and whose lives he had touched most. I will miss many many things about him, but I am feeling at peace knowing he is probably watching whales in Hawaii right about now,  wearing one of his favorite Hawaiin button-ups, getting his tan on. 

I love you grandpa, thank you for teaching me to appreciate such little things about life, and among all other things to love others like you did.

Your Avie.