My Grandfather lives with us. He just turned 95.
Papa & Frankie -- 94 1/2 & 3 1/2
Most people think he is about 70. He takes care of himself with me to provide laundry and cooking. Half the time he drives himself down to the diner in the morning or the burger joint in the evening. He really isn’t much trouble at all. When my grandmother died and he came to live with us, Frankie was 10 months old and I was at home. Now I have to be at work everyday 12 miles up the road. Which makes it difficult when he actually does need me.
Halloween night he stumbled as he got out of bed and hit his face on the chest of drawers. So I spent the next 2 weeks running him around to the doctor and eventually the dentist. Someone at work remarked that it was like having another child and I think that is a good analogy. I was very frustrated as I had already missed a lot of work due to Frankie starting pre-school and being sick every other week and I was not feeling very loving toward him for a couple of weeks. That was when I started this post. Since then I have put in some extra time at work to get caught up and am not feeling quite so overwhelmed. So this morning, I can be thankful that my little girl gets to know her great-grandpa. Not everyone gets to have that. He is not the grandpa I had growing up, it’s been 40 years and we are both different people now. (plus as a child, I don’t think you really know the grownups in your life) But I can love him for that history and because my grandma loved him. And try to remember that when I am frustrated by having to yell at him and repeat everything because he won’t wear his hearing aid. Or he makes a racist remark. Or makes the bathroom smell like old man. Or ………