I'll miss you, Grampy.

Grampy died this morning. I got a message from my mom the other day saying he wasn't doing well in the nursing home. She stayed the day with him and the most he would do was moan slightly when they moved him. Yesterday was pretty much the same. She called me around 1030pm to let me know they were going to meet with hospice this morning to see what they could do to keep him comfortable until he died. This morning around 7, the nursing home called to say he was doing poorly and the family may want to come to be with him. My mom and dad and my Uncle Larry and Aunt Monica all came to his side. My mom said Grampy opened his eyes a little and she told him they all were with him and it was okay. He closed his eyes and died a few minutes later.

After the past few months of ups and downs with Grampy, I was concerned about my mom and how she would hold up. I'm impressed, she's doing much better than I thought she would. On the phone last night, she told me just talking about hospice made her feel like a huge weight was lifted off her. There would be no more wondering if they were doing the right thing. Everyone knew he wasn't getting better and it was only a matter of time til he passed. The new goal was to keep him comfortable.

I think the other comfort for my mom was that Grampy was ready to go. He apparently told my Aunt Monica he was scared to die because he's hated God for so long for taking my Grandma Jeannie. I think she was only 40, maybe 45, when she died of colon cancer. They arranged for our priest to come by his room, while Grampy was still lucid, to let him know it was okay to die and there was to be no fear of his past thoughts about God. Something happened with a new (bad) secretary at the church and the message never made it to Father Albert. A girl my mom went to high school with heard about the situation, went to 430pm mass that night and all but grabbed the priest by the hand afterwards to make sure he visited Grampy. By the time Father got to Grampy's bedside, he was already unresponsive. But Father still prayed with him and anointed him. Mom told me a few days or weeks ago Grampy asked her to take "one last walk down the road to Praise the Lord." (We think he had a stroke in the middle of all this so although he was of right mind, he used wrong words. Road/street meant the hallway.) At that point he was unable to walk, but he held my mom's hand for about a half hour. Then he looked at her, said something to the effect of "I'm ready. It will be okay" and let go. We think it was then that he was ready.

Grampy was Grampy. There was no one like him. First and foremost, the Yankees came before everything. When a game was on TV or the radio, all bets were off. Don't even try to talk to him. He used to sit in his chair to watch them on TV. Every few years we had to buy him a new Lazy Boy because he would wear out the arm cushions from rubbing them when he got nervous or mad at his team.

He was kind of a loner. Not because he was a hermit, but because he didn't have time for the drama most lives consist of. He'd come to our house for a holiday visit, but when he was ready to go he was ready to go. There were no frills about him. He by no means showed off or bragged about himself. He knew when he did good and he didn't need someone else to tell him that. He built furniture like a champ. He was cheap. No sense in spending money on lumber when you could break apart pallets or some old wood cabinet and salvage the wood. Grampy has built me multiple pieces of furniture. The nightstands in the kids rooms, a headboard, a buffet table, a coffee table and a little cocktail table. Before refinishing the cocktail table it was really the kids table where he used to draw with me. Grampy was an undercover artist. There were always doodles on every piece of paper around his apartment. He used to take construction paper, take his thumbnail and "draw" me a picture. I used to trace the imprint of his nail drawing so I could "draw" the picture.

His kitchen was like a diner. My family lived in his apartment with him while our house was being built. My parents business was in the storefront below. Every night at 5pm, there was a home cooked meal on the table. There was no such thing as frozen fries. He cut them by hand and fried them on the back porch. His coffee was black as black could be. Don't touch his mug though. I don't think he ever drank out of another mug in his life. He could turn the nastiest piece of meat into a delicacy with a tap. The joke was he tapped his meat twice with his fingertips before he cooked it. The taps made it delicious. Steaks, burgers, chicken....it didn't matter. It all was delicious. And no matter what it was he made, he never ate with us. "You guys just eat." The white swinging door was shut and Grampy sat in the Lazy Boy and watched the news.

He was in love with Grandma Jeannie. I think its been 35 years or so since she died and he never showed interest in anyone else. He never remarried. Grandma Jeannie could sing and dance and play the piano. Everyone loved her. He told me stories about how they'd go the local bar and guys would come up to him while he was drinking a bar and ask if it was okay if they danced with Jeannie. He never cared. He liked that it was his wife that everyone wanted to dance with.

This may come off as rude to any of my family that may read this blog but I think he was my favorite person. He wasn't over lovey, but when he saw you, a big smile said everything you ever wanted to hear. He wasn't pushy or hovering. He gave you the perfect amount of attention. You knew when he had enough he had enough in general, it wasn't because of you. He got so excited to build me furniture. But most importantly he may have been my quietest my strongest supporter. He never came to any of my basketball games, but he'd say, "I read in the paper you did good at your game, I'm happy." When college came along he was just happy I was furthering my education. It didn't matter where or what I was going to school for. Just as long as I studied and tried my best. I got a Medal of Valor through work a few years back and he wasn't at my ceremony. But later on, he told me short and sweet how proud he was of me. He gained nothing from our successes. He didn't advertise or brag about us to anyone else like some people do to show off . He made sure we knew how he felt about us. No one else mattered. He was proud I worked and earned money and had nice things without going overboard. I was scared to death to tell him I was getting a divorce years ago, but he wasn't mad. He told me I had to do what I had to do to be happy and if its something we both agreed on then he was okay with it. I think he's the only one that I genuinely believed when that was said to me. People didn't have to agree with it. I just wanted them to support me.

I didn't know until a few years ago, but I have determined my dream guy is Grampy. Ok, not in an incestuous kind of way but a way that he'd tell you what he thinks, he's supportive, you knew he loved you and he was so in love with you there was no one else around. I feel that Grampy looked at Grandma Jeannie was "the one" for him. Its been 35 years and he still is in love with Grandma Jeannie. Ironically coming from a religious family, I've jumped off that wagon and have questioned religion a lot. I have no real view of what happens after you die. But, I pray so hard that he's with Grandma Jeannie again and not angry with God anymore.

I thought I'd be okay with this day. He didn't know it but I said my good-bye to him while he was in the hospital. Ironically, I said it when I did because the Yankees game was about to come on. There were priorities, you know. :) I'm glad he's in peace. I'm glad he's not sick anymore. He didn't want the hospital or the nursing home. He wanted his chair and a TV and a good cup of coffee. I pray he has all of that now and Grandma Jeannie. While we're down here on Earth crying and realizing we just lost something we can never get back, now its time for us to stop being selfish and let Grandma Jeannie have something she hasn't had in decades. Her "one."

So, Grampy, where ever it is you are now, please continue to be supportive. Send us a message every once in a while to let us know you're thinking about us. (He's already starting it. While I was typing this post, Brian was next to me watching a show on Travel Channel or something. I posted it, closed the computer and watched with him. Then I said, "Holy shit." Brian looked at me funny. I explained that in my blog I asked Grampy to send a message every once in a while. The building they were discussing on TV was called "Hootenannnie's." Grampy used to say that word all the time when we were younger. At the time, not having a huge vocabulary, I thought it was a word he made up. Later in life I found out it wasn't, but everytime I heard it I thought of him.)

I love you.

And with that, I want to end this with a smile (well, it will make me smile anyway). Grampy wasn't much of a singer, but there was one song he sang to us all the time when we were little. It was silly so we thought he made it up. That was til last year when I found out it was in fact a real song. It's a Polka called Too Fat.