Do you want to hear the greatest love story in the world?
Two friends, Juleda and Zuby, in a small town in Kentucky were talking. Zuby's son was in the Air Force, and she was worried he would re-enlist, which she did not want him to do. So she asked Juleda if she could get her 16 year old daughter to write to her 21 year old son and ask him to come back to Kentucky. Juleda's daughter Zella protested, but did what her mother asked. She wrote "Dear Russ, You should come back to Kentucky. You don't know what you're missing".
My grandfather read that letter and would later say "I came back to see just exactly what I was missing back home".
My grandparents were married in April, 1950 and were married for over 61 years. Oh, and he re-enlisted anyway. (My stubborn streak is an inherited trait).
My grandfather was my hero growing up. He was an Air Force veteran, who served in the Korean War. He retired from the air force and began working out at Cape Canaveral for one of the many companies that helped build the space shuttle program. He raised three sons, and made it through a tragedy when one of his sons was killed in a car accident at 19. After he retired, he puttered around his house, worked on his lawn, listened to Rush Limbaugh and doted on his grandchildren.
When I was 19, I moved out of my mother's house and in with my grandparents. They traveled back and forth between home and Kentucky and I had been house sitting for them since I'd turned 18 and it just made sense to me. It was practically like living on my own for months at a time, except I didn't have to pay any rent or any of the bills (I know, I was spoiled). They were my stability growing up. I moved a lot when I was a kid, but their home had remained the one constant in my life and I wanted to be there. We fought over politics as he was very conservative and I was more liberal. The day I changed my political party affiliation to Republican, he gave me a hug and told me he knew I'd eventually come around. Making him proud was something I strive for every day of my life.
So many stories, so many memories. He used to take us to Wendy's after Sunday School and get us a frosty. He took me fishing and would always bait our hooks for us. When he started getting a bald spot on the back of his head, I would tease him and he would slap away my hand and insist that he still had plenty of hair. He would go walking around the mall and come back with new stories about the old ladies that would hit on him while my grandmother reminded him that she'd take down any one of them that tried to steal away her husband. I'll never know what his middle name was. He legally dropped it as soon as he could and refused to give his sons middle names because he hated his so much.
Of course I've cried over many things these past 36 hours, but I cried the most when I realized that I'd always wanted him to walk me down the aisle when I finally got married, and now he never will. It's likely he would never have been able to even if he wasn't gone due to the Alzheimer's, but I kept a bit of hope alive that he would be there to see me finally settle down.
I keep trying to tell myself those words that are supposed to comfort - that he's in a better place, no more pain, no more insulin shots, no more struggling to speak and remember everyone and everything around you. But I didn't want him to go. I wanted to keep believing that he would be there, even if he wasn't the man I knew and loved growing up. I wanted to believe that maybe some day he would watch me walk out the door and holler out "Take your time going but hurry back" as he always had before Alzheimer's stole him from us. But nothing helps.
These words don't even begin to tell you how much I loved him and why. I miss him so damn much.
My grandfather read that letter and would later say "I came back to see just exactly what I was missing back home".
My grandparents were married in April, 1950 and were married for over 61 years. Oh, and he re-enlisted anyway. (My stubborn streak is an inherited trait).
My grandfather was my hero growing up. He was an Air Force veteran, who served in the Korean War. He retired from the air force and began working out at Cape Canaveral for one of the many companies that helped build the space shuttle program. He raised three sons, and made it through a tragedy when one of his sons was killed in a car accident at 19. After he retired, he puttered around his house, worked on his lawn, listened to Rush Limbaugh and doted on his grandchildren.
When I was 19, I moved out of my mother's house and in with my grandparents. They traveled back and forth between home and Kentucky and I had been house sitting for them since I'd turned 18 and it just made sense to me. It was practically like living on my own for months at a time, except I didn't have to pay any rent or any of the bills (I know, I was spoiled). They were my stability growing up. I moved a lot when I was a kid, but their home had remained the one constant in my life and I wanted to be there. We fought over politics as he was very conservative and I was more liberal. The day I changed my political party affiliation to Republican, he gave me a hug and told me he knew I'd eventually come around. Making him proud was something I strive for every day of my life.
So many stories, so many memories. He used to take us to Wendy's after Sunday School and get us a frosty. He took me fishing and would always bait our hooks for us. When he started getting a bald spot on the back of his head, I would tease him and he would slap away my hand and insist that he still had plenty of hair. He would go walking around the mall and come back with new stories about the old ladies that would hit on him while my grandmother reminded him that she'd take down any one of them that tried to steal away her husband. I'll never know what his middle name was. He legally dropped it as soon as he could and refused to give his sons middle names because he hated his so much.
Of course I've cried over many things these past 36 hours, but I cried the most when I realized that I'd always wanted him to walk me down the aisle when I finally got married, and now he never will. It's likely he would never have been able to even if he wasn't gone due to the Alzheimer's, but I kept a bit of hope alive that he would be there to see me finally settle down.
I keep trying to tell myself those words that are supposed to comfort - that he's in a better place, no more pain, no more insulin shots, no more struggling to speak and remember everyone and everything around you. But I didn't want him to go. I wanted to keep believing that he would be there, even if he wasn't the man I knew and loved growing up. I wanted to believe that maybe some day he would watch me walk out the door and holler out "Take your time going but hurry back" as he always had before Alzheimer's stole him from us. But nothing helps.
These words don't even begin to tell you how much I loved him and why. I miss him so damn much.
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