I have two surviving grandparents; both of them are my grandmothers. My Dad's father - the one whom I am, in part, named for - died before I was born, so I never got the chance to get to know him. According to the rest of the family, though, I take a lot after him. I can't honestly say I miss him, per se, at least not in the conventional sense; certainly I would have loved to get to know the man, but I suppose that since I never actually met him, I can't say he really left a void behind in my mind.
Things are different with my other grandfather - the one on my mother's side, who served in the Air Force. Speaking honestly, he was a hard man to get along with - his gruff demeanor and occasional hot temper often made him seem distant and unapproachable, as did his somewhat caustic sense of humor. He was one of only a few people who, when I was younger, I was genuinely afraid of making angry. He didn't open up easily. Nevertheless, in those moments when we bonded - such as when I was listening to his stories about his service, or when he was sitting across from me at a chessboard and utterly massacring my defenses (he didn't believe in going easy on novices) - you could tell that he was a man who genuinely cared for his family, even if he didn't always express it outright. I respected him, I looked up to him, and in some respects I always wanted to emulate his intelligence and firm character. He passed away in his sleep about three years ago, just a few days before Halloween. It wasn't exactly unexpected; he had been battling health issues for years, but he never gave up on living; he was just too tough to let himself die. There's a lot of things I regret not being able to ask or tell him anymore, but I'm grateful for everything I did learn from the man.
Possibly because I only have half of my grandparents left, I try to treasure my moments with the ones I have left.
We were spending the Thanksgiving holiday this year with my maternal grandmother at her home in Delaware. It wasn't exactly a vacation as such for me, since I had a ton of work I needed to catch up on which ate up a lot of my free time; nevertheless, I appreciated the chance I had to catch up with my Mom's family, as well as what opportunities I had to enjoy their company.
It was a little before 10:00 PM and we had all just left the theater when the news came in - my other grandmother was having difficulty breathing and had been admitted to the hospital. We were debating on whether or not to return home when another call came in, informing us that her heart had stopped and then restarted itself. That decided things for us. We managed to pack everything up within 15 minutes - an astonishing feat in and of itself, if you know my family - and began heading back to Tennessee.
My father is not a man who frequently lets his emotions show. I think I've only seen him cry a grand total of three times in his life. Getting that news about his mother's heart stopping was one of them. Honestly, I don't blame him; it was hard enough on me to hear the news it as things stood. I don't think I could honestly keep my composure if I were to hear that one of my parents was walking the knife's edge between life and death,, not knowing if they would even last the night. It's not something I try to contemplate for long.
Under the best conditions, the drive from Delaware to my home in East Tennessee takes a little over ten hours. That's a lot of time to think and to come to terms with your circumstances, especially when you're in the back seat of a car and don't have enough light to actually read any of the seven or so books that you brought with you expressly for long car journeys. Fortunately, we didn't get any news about my grandmother's condition getting worse; on the contrary, it seemed she had stabilized, and that we would, in fact, get in in time to see her.
We were about two hours away from home when the night threw it's second curveball straight at us. Almost literally out of nowhere, a deer dashed out in front of our car. It happened too quickly for any of us to react; we hit the creature with a resounding clash. I swore at the time that I heard the thing's skull shatter like fine china - I was certain it couldn't have survived being hit by an SUV at over 70 miles an hour - but there were no traces of dead deer anywhere on or near the highway, so it seems we managed to ram the World's Most Implacable Deer. The car itself wasn't quite as indestructible; the engine began smoking almost immediately, and we were dead in the water over 100 miles from home. We had to call a tow truck to haul it away, and a cab to take us to a nearby airport where we managed to get a rental car for the rest of our trip.
In the end, it was about 10 in the morning before we finally got in. We immediately went to visit Mamaw. She wasn't in the best of shape, but at least she was conscious and knew who we were.
Right now I'm sitting in the hospital, waiting my turn to visit her. There's a two-visitor-per-room policy, and right now my parents are both in there. She seems to be doing a little better than before, which I thank God for. Still, she's definitely fighting to hang on; like my grandfather, she's simply too stubborn to give up on life. I think I've had enough time to come to terms with the worst happening, especially since this isn't either the first time she's been in serious trouble, but honestly part of me still doesn't want to let go.
If you're reading this, I have only one simple request: Pray for her. I'm not necessarily asking you to pray for her recovery, although I've certainly been hoping for it; however, she's been through a lot, and even on her best days these days she struggles with everyday living. Do pray, however, that whenever her time comes, whether it be tonight or in another ten years, that she's able to go peacefully and with full knowledge that she has a family who loves her.
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