So close, but so far away

I was the first grandchild. Born to 18-year-old and 20-year-old newlyweds on January 16, 1984. I don't remember all the details but I do remember being loved. My Grandma and Poppy were always there. I became like another daughter to them. A third child. I remember nights spent over at their house right in the middle of their bed, squished in between the two of them. I remember dancing around the house, performing Madonna songs and putting on piano recitals for everyone. I remember taking bath time with my grandma, drying off and covering myself in baby powder and running to my Poppy telling him to smell how clean I was. I remember them taking me apple picking, peach picking, cherry picking. I remember my Poppy always teasing me about my food as I guarded it with my life. I remember him taking me the golf course around 3 or 4 years old and him telling me to be quiet. And never wanting to disappoint, I kept my mouth shut as I pooped my pants and he tried to track down the smell that followed us all the way home. I remember my Grandma and Poppy were two of my biggest fans. They were there on the sideline of every basketball game I ever had. They supported me through some my darkest times and were there through some of my happiest. My poppy would cut me fruit and pack me snack bags for high school breaks and later work breaks. He'd always include a smiley face or a little note telling me to have a great day. And when I moved to Hawaii my grandma and him bought a condo to come visit frequently and be there if I needed. He's always been a great storyteller and we'd always find ourselves gravitating towards my grandma and him at family dinners and get togethers because they MAKE our family. They are the center of the family.

Funny how I remember all these sweet beautiful memories and yet clearly remember the one time when I was around 20 years old, dating someone I thought I wanted to be "the one", and my priorities were clearly turned around. My Poppy came to pick me up and when I got in the car, he started to ask me questions. Being a 20-year-old know-it-all, my defenses shot up and within minutes we ended up in a shouting match saying that this was the end of the road for us. We were done.

A few days blew by and I finally got my ass out of my head and apologized but that day is still stuck in my mind.

We moved past that day and moved on. It wasn't the end of the road for us. He continued to be there and support me. He was there when I got married. He was there when I had my daughter. He opened up his house to my husband and I last year when we had no where to go. He was always there.

And right now, he's there but not really RIGHT there.

My grandpa has spent more days of this new year in the hospital sick with double pneumonia than he has home and well. It's been a heartbreaking and an especially scary time for my family. We're not ready to lose him but we've gotten close to just that.

Because I started this year off sick, I finally got to the hospital to visit the other day. It is literally heartbreaking to walk into a hospital room and see someone who was one of the most influential people in your life, lying in a hospital bed so sick and fragile looking. His hair was so long because he's been there a week and a half, he lost ten lbs during his stay, he's on an oxygen mask with humidifier treatments every few hours and can't talk without losing control of his breath.

I wanted in and immediately had to bite my lip to hold back the tears. And yet he was still there. The first thing out of his mouth was asking how I was, how the baby was and commenting how big she looked and asking how M's new job was going and how he liked it. Using whatever strength he had to smile and laugh.

He's going to make it through this. He HAS to make it through this. But I'm scared. Any setback could be fatal. We could lose him.

We visited for awhile, hearing lots of discouragement but also a lot of hope in his voice. An avid golfer, my grandma asked the case manager if he would ever be able to golf again and he interrupted to say, "That's the last of my concerns. I just want to go home and spend time with my family."

And in a simple statement he solidified everything he's every taught me through the years. That family is most important. That he and my grandma would always be there for us. Actions speak louder than words. That he loves me no matter what. That we are a family and will get through it together. No matter what.

So we're sitting here and waiting. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting anxiously with open arms. Miss B asks for her Papa every day. I send good thoughts and positive energy every day. I pray for relief and return of his health. I just want him home.

And so the tables have turned. I wait. Here. Always here. Just like he always was for me.