My Grandpa Bill, in his waning days, was confined to a hospital bed. Many hours were spent watching him lay there as, I assume, he prepared to exit the stage. I was only 3 or 4. One day, as visitors arrived, they were greeted by the old Bill. Sitting up. Laughing. Jovial. Fully engaged. My cousin Marilyn and I commenced playing and getting rowdy as kids do. We were rolling and tumbling under his bed. One of the visitors told us to hush and settle down, so as not to upset Grandpa. Bill interceded on our behalf and told us to go about the business of being kids. I dont recall the sound of his voice. Due to his stature, I imagine it to be booming and filled with Irish cantankerousness. What I do remember is his hand hanging over the side of the bed as he participated in the mayhem and egged us on. That is the only physical memory I have of him. Very soon after this, he passed away. Spin forward roughly 30 years. Einar, who has parleyed his 6 months to live diagnosis into a wildly productive and physically active 15 years, is nearing the end of his journey. Much of his time was spent in a drowsy state, limiting communication. One night, (pre-cell phone days) my wife and I, each with one of our boys in tow, decided not to go home for dinner (as planned) but drop in on Einar. We were all greeted by a spry, totally with it, laughing, joking Einar who conversed with us like the pre-Cancer days. Coincidentally, my cousin Gene showed up (with ever-present candy treats in his pocket for the boys). He mentioned he just got the urge to drop by. I think my sister and the ever faithful Babe showed up too. We had the best time wed had in years. At one point, the boys were wrestling under Einars bed. I admonished them to behave and not disturb their Grandpa. Dad instantly overruled me. Boys will be Boys! It didnt hit me right away but, when I got home, I was overwhelmed by the Deja Vuness of it all. A few days later, Einar surrendered.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Dec 2014 00:29:35 +0000
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