It has been a long time since I have written anything. And sadly, this blog won't be an easy one for me to write.
I have been pretty damn lucky in my 41 years on this planet to only have to deal with death of an immediate family member and/or close friend 5 times. Both of my dad's parents, my mom's sister & mother and now her father. My grandfather: Walter E. Young.
Grandpa was 95 when he died on February 17th. The last time I saw him was right after Christmas on December 27th. I came down with some sort of flu bug and had been feeling terrible off and on for a few weeks. That morning I was feeling REALLY bad and nauseous. I almost didn't go. But I thought to myself, "If something happens to him and I didn't go I am going to feel terrible". We made the almost 3 hour trek down to Barnesville. I really thought I was going to vomit in the car. Once we arrived into town, we had some time to kill before we went to the assisted living facility. My parents wanted to stop at the antique mall and then grab some lunch. Needless to say, I stayed in the car. Around 1:00, we made it over to the facility to see my grandpa. As we entered the room, he looked weak and was watching tv. He looked at us and it took a moment for him to realize who we were. It was nice to know even in his failing health, he could recognize us. Some, much younger than him, have had their memories ripped away from Alzheimers or dementia.
The first thing he said to us is that: "They are trying to kill me in here" while pointing at his drink. He kept repeating this over and over. When someone is that old, you are not sure if its just that they are delirious or are they really trying to kill him. And if they are......WHO is trying to kill him? :) We sat and tried to have a conversation with him. His hearing now was really bad. The worst I had ever seen. And although he couldn't hear you, he definitely wanted you to hear him. As he was talking to me, he was looking above my head. He stopped mid sentence and said "Do you see that smoke?". Of course there was no smoke but I thought maybe the ceiling light was playing tricks on is failing eyes. I started walking toward the light switch and he yelled at me, "DO NOT SHUT THAT LIGHT OFF!". In my 41 years, I can't remember my grandpa yelling at me.
Looking back at it, I am sure the light was some sort of comfort to him. Leaving the light on meant to him he was still alive. Of course I left the light on for him because I was not about to face the wrath of a 95 year old man. A few minutes after that one of the nurses came in and we mentioned to her that multiple times he mentioned someone was trying to kill him while pointing at his drink. She looked up at us and started laughing. She explained he was watching the news the previous week and there had been a story about a salmonella outbreak in caramel apples so now he thinks anything with sugar in it is going to kill him. Yup that was my grandpa.
I could go on and on and tell you so many great stories. But the ones I love the best are the basic ones. When he would take my brother and I fishing to the "boarding school". Which by the way, to this day, I am not even sure what the hell that was. Was it for bad kids? Was it for smart kids? All I know is there was a lake behind it and we went there to fish. I would grab my cane pole and bobber and big, fat earthworm to put on the hook. Most girls and some boys hated worms. I didn't. I would find them after a rain storm struggling to make it across the sidewalk and I would "save" them. Saving them meant throwing them in the grass where they belonged. Ironically, I didn't care that I was stabbing them to death with a sharp hook to try and catch a bluegill. Some love to cast a fishing rod far out. Not me. I was smart. I would put my cane pole right in the water about one foot from the shore line and catch fish all day long. It was honest, it was pure, and it was something I will never forget.
If you are wondering why I called this blog "Wild Horses", well, there is something you need to know about my grandfather. He owned and trained harness horses for 65 years. He stopped racing in his early 90's. Yup you read that right.
There is one thing that stuck out in my mind when the pastor was talking at the service. He said the following:
"You don't start living when you find out you are dying."
And that is so true. My grandfather lived every single day for 95 years.
I will miss you Grandpa. Thank you for all of the memories.
XOXO-
Barra
