“They used to say that getting old isn’t fun,” my 84-year-old father-in-law tells me, every so often. “And boy, now I sure know what they mean.” I call my father-in-law “Grandpa,” as his children often do. He and “Grandma” got married in their sixties, both of them already grandparents, and “Grandpa and Grandma” slipped easily into the family vocabulary.
Grandpa sits in his chair all morning and looks out the window at the snow and the birds and the cars moving past on the road, dozing now and then. By afternoon he is restless. “Maybe I should go out and do my chores,” he’ll say. “If it wasn’t so snowy out…”
“Ivan will do the chores,” we tell him. “You stay inside.”
But fifteen minutes later, he brings it up again. “Who’s going to get the eggs?” After 50-plus years of chores, he holds the responsibility and habit of them deep in his mind and cannot let them go.
Grandpa’s mind isn’t what it used to be. He doesn’t carry a conversation, much, except for certain repeated comments about eggs and weather and chores and Homer (or whoever it happens to be) driving in the lane.
He still has a sense of humor, though, evidenced by his occasional quirky comments and his responsive grin at other people’s jokes and sallies. He is also one of the sweetest old men that I know. When I am 84 and have nothing much left in life but a window and the weather, I hope I keep my sweetness and my sense of humor.
You can never tell, really, how you will meet the extremities of life until you get there. Sometimes you have more control of your responses than others. None of us can blame a cantankerous, stubborn old person with Alzheimer’s for the way they are acting. They have no reasoning ability left, nothing but primal responses to stimuli they don’t understand.
Still, I think it helps all of us us to watch those in the middle of crisis or illness, to watch and to learn and to prepare.
Our neighbor, a dear friend and Ivan’s childhood mentor, was recently diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. This only several months after his daughter—a married woman with young children—died in a freak car accident. No parent expects to see their children die before they do. “I’m praying God will use this to bring people to the Lord,” our neighbor said. And, “If our faith isn’t made for a time like this, then what good is it?”
He and his wife care for another daughter who has Down’s syndrome. His wife recently came through her own battle with major illness. Two of their sons were ordained to the ministry only this summer. He and his wife and their daughter with Down’s are currently in the process of downsizing to a smaller house. Momentous events, every one of them. Some of them good, many difficult—the type of event you expect to take a lifetime adjusting to. And now, most recently, cancer.
“How are you doing?” I asked his wife when I stopped by the other day to return a book she had loaned me. “Are you feeling overwhelmed?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she told me how supported they felt by having a daughter and son-in-law live close by and by the warmth and caring of the Oakland community. “We are so blessed,” she said.
This makes me want to cry. I only hope, when I meet the most difficult extremities of my life, my relationship with my Savior and with the people around me will be such that I can say from my heart, “We are so blessed.”
This is inspiring. thanks for sharing the experience.
So very encouraging to hear what you wrote !!! The hard things in life can make us bitter or better.
We had our share of challenges in 2008 when my husband had esophageal cancer. We thank the Lord for our church family who supported us in prayer and phone calls and email. We also had a wonderful cancer hospital. Cancer Treatment Center of America (CTCA) that we went to in Zion, IL.
Now we travel to CTCA in GA for his yearly check-ups. The hospital in Ga wasn’t built back in 2008.
Keep writing…….I always look forward to hearing what you have to say :)
Bertha Metzler
Thank you, Bertha. It’s good to hear another piece of your story.
My grandpa has dementia and he inspires me by his faith. He doesn’t remember everything, but his faith in Jesus is something that keeps him grounded. I’m challenged by him to be committed to Jesus now since I have no idea what’s ahead for me.
That’s beautiful, Katie. Thank you.
Thanks for sharing. Our family is going through a terribly hard thing now, but have been blessed with many supportive friends in Christ. I told a dear friend today that she was the ears and voice of Christ for me today. Even though the tears came several times today, I am blessed.
Bless you. I am sorry for your hard time and will pray for you. Thank you for commenting.
Beautiful.
This brought tears to my eyes. Thanks for writing the stories. My dad, toward end of life, didn’t say much either–it was so different for him. And he would mow the yard almost every day during summer, until the yard turned to dust during dry spells. Some of us said “he thought he was still farming.”
I didn’t mean to post anonymously. :-) This is Melodie. I’ll sign in now!
Such a good memory, Melodie. Thanks for sharing it.
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