from the mixed-up files of a middle-aged mind

"Grandpa Smitty," 1909-2007 This past Tuesday I got a phone call at work at a little after 10:00 a.m. "Grandpa got his wish," was all my mom could say. Well over two years after a diagnosis of congestive heart failure and the doctor's giving him six months to live, my maternal Grandfather finally passed on. He had just turned 98. His final act of kindness to my grandmother was to wait till the first day of spring, as he knew she couldn't bear watching them lower his coffin to into the cold hard winter earth. I was privileged to have been able to help care for Grandpa and Grandma in their home for several months during 2005. During that time and many times since I was a witness to their tenderness and love for one another. It is a blessing I will never forget. I loved watching them touch and kiss and especially loved seeing them hold hands across their respective armchairs. My favorite part of the mornings was every time Grandpa would go back to bed. I would ...

in honor of my good friend geo , who somehow manages to do this and much, much more every day Tonight (Sunday) I tucked my ninety-year-old grandmother into bed for the night. Some time ago I regularly had the pleasure of turning down her bed for her before her afternoon nap, but it's been awhile and this was the first time at bedtime. I gently nestled the sheets beneath her chin and laid out the Underground Railroad quilt I pieced for her for her 88th birthday and made her promise to me that no matter what happened with Grandpa during the night she would stay in bed and page the aides and let them deal with it. She had another TIA today. It's no wonder. Grandpa, just turned 98, has been very sweet and cooperative with her until these past few weeks. But now dementia usually has him in its vicious grip and he's had enough the oxygen tubes and little white pills and waking up every day to the disappointment of still being alive. The nurse came in and took Grandma's bloo...