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2002-01-31 -

I dreamed last night that I was dancing with my grandfather. I can't remember much else from the dream, just that we were dancing and he was smiling at me.

My grandfather led a good life. He worked for Ford for a number of years before starting his own business. He invented a type of trailer hitch that remains a well known brand today. He built the house he and my grandmother lived in, and had his own plane in which they traveled the US. He was strong, kind, and the best grandfather a kid could have.

The last time I saw him was in a nursing home. Over a number of years, he had been progressively ailing with that cruel thief of the mind, Alzheimers. I visited him with my mother. He was bundled in a chair, and he looked so frail and old. He was a hollowed-out shell. He had restraining straps on him to keep him from getting up and falling. It's hard for me to even think about those straps. They hurt my eyes worse than his poor body did.

He didn't recognize anyone anymore. But my mother tried, said 'Here is your granddaughter. She's a Renton, just like you.' I remember he looked at me with a gentle smile, and said 'Renton. I used to have a name like that.' And I held his hand, my shirtsleeves got all wet from my tears, my mom tried to get him to eat some lunch, and he lay strapped into his chair.

I always felt that his words meant he knew, sometimes, what was happening to him. That he knew he was no longer the man he used to be. I hope those moments were few and far between. He died of pneumonia, not many months later.

I'm glad for that dream. I woke up with a fading ache, happy to have seen him, happy that he was smiling.

:::

A belated update: remember me yapping about the Uber-couple we were supposed go out with? Well, we never did. It was snowing that particular night, and they decided not to chance the roads. Probably didn't want to get moisture on their new Lamborghini or something.

:::

O, Mr. Influenza, let us palaver. Surely you have achieved your viral purpose by now? Surely there can be no compelling reason to lurk about in one place, when there are many other hosts that might enjoy your fevery company? Have you not heard of overstaying your welcome? Begone, you. Don't make me get out the expectorant.

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0 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
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Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
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