I finally saw my grandfather last Friday.  I waited until my sister came from LA so that I wouldn't be alone in my first time seeing him after the accident.  Cowardly, maybe but there really is strength in numbers.

Both my aunts had repeatedly warned me what to expect.  "He's very thin, and weak."  "He sometimes will not recognize you but that's okay."  "He has good days and bad days."  "He is bedridden." etc...  "But be positive and uplifting."

What I saw shocked me despite all the warnings. 

What I saw was not my grandfather.

What I saw was not the strong man who raised me for seven childhood years.

I was so overcome seeing my grandfather that I had to leave his room.  My aunt understood and stayed. And so did my sister.  She's the tough one.  I'm the baby of the family, not literally, but in spirit.  So they leave me lots of room and give me comfort.

I stepped just outside, and couldn't stop crying, weeping for the man that was, and who  would never be again.

In my mind flashed images, memories of what he was, of how he was.


My Grandfather has always been a strong man.  Arrogant and vain but strong.  He was very handsome in his youth (and according to those his age still very good looking that he still gets letters of admiration and crushes from women up to now, strangely.) I used to think it weird when as a child women would say, "You're soandso's granddaughter, tell him I said hi, and that I remember him."  I just thought women were weird, and when I told my grandma she just laughed and teased my grandpa about it.  My grandpa knew all that and it just added to his vanity. I find it amusing that even now, he requires his hair to be meticulously styled and continues to wear designer pajamas as if his admirers would come calling.  He's still such a charmer that the nurses in the hospital loved him.  Despite being 88, my grandpa still has it.  Weird, to me, but it's something he's proud of, even now.

When I was little I used to wonder why grandpa would always work out barechested outside where people could see him and watch him.  In retrospect and objectively speaking, i think he had a fine muscular body.  One that he was proud of and could rival or match that of our Apollo.

He would  have hated to see himself now, atrophied muscles, and weak... so far from what he was.

My grandfather was a WWII pilot and officer.  He survived a forced march and a concentration camp until the Americans came and freed them. 

He loved his planes and helicopters, collecting 3 hangars of them.  I wonder what'll happen now as no one followed in his footsteps and learned to fly.  Part of me regrets that. I should have done that.  Then he would know his beloved birds are still cared for.

Whenever I hear, "Captain." I expect my grandfather to be there, and answer them strongly and surely.  I doubt now he's called by that anymore.  They speak to him in babysoft tones which would have made my grandfather 30 years ago cringe to know.

My grandfather still loves boxing.  Though he doesn't box anymore.  He perked up when we spoke of a match he saw years ago.


That grandfather, strong and proud no longer exists, and I mourn deeply for him because the world is a sadder place.

The man who lies in the bed, neckbrace holding him up is someone else. 

He is my grandfather and I love him.

I was happy to see that my grandfather recognized me without any prompts.  The only one of his large extended family, aside from my grandma who he knew immediately despite not having seen me in 4 years.  His eyes lit up and said my nickname, the nickname only he uses and somehow his arm lightning fast grabbed my arm and held it, pulling me close and not letting go, asking for kisses over and over again.

The next day it happened again, this time as I was hugging him (the only one to do so b/c everyone else hadsaid he was too fragile for that), he wrapped his arms around me, said my nickname and told me that he missed me, that he loved me and again asked for more kisses.

All this astonished my aunts who had told me he was in early alzheimers and really did not remember people unless they have been explained.

They told me I had to continue to visit because my grandfather was more alert with me than anyone.

Strange, my grandfather and I never got along when I was a child.  We were extremely confrontational, me as a tiny 7 year old and him as a big strong man, neither giving way to the other.

Funny and odd what time does.

Alreadly I miss my grandfather.

But I'm glad I came.