"My sister is having a baby!"

Ok, that headline was misleading. She's actually already had the baby a boy, six and a half years ago. He's a bundle of...joy (most of the time). Sometimes he can be a bundle of barbed-wire - hard to handle! The reason I've been recollecting this event happens to be because I drove my grandma to Charlotte the moment we heard my sister went into labor. My sister had just moved from West Virginia to North Carolina in hopes to find freedom and herself. She found a husband, an embryo, and motherhood along the way.

I was 18 at the time and excited to be able to take road trips to visit my sister. We hadn't been too close growing up, as she is 5 years older than me, but as we grew older we found things in common, mainly eating out and the need to be on the go. It was wonderful news to hear her 9 months of strenuous pregnancy were soon to be over resulting in me being an uncle. I'd been living in Columbus then, and my grandmother lives in West Virginia, a couple hours away. After making the necessary arrangements to leave work early (it was Friday), borrowing a reliable vehicle from my mom (she isn't able to travel - agoraphobia), I was off!

I arrived in West Virginia to find my grandmother ready to go. We packed up her stuff, which includes a week's worth of clothes regardless of the length of the trip, because 'you never know
what could happen when you're away from home', a bag of her prescriptions to last months, many bottles which she hasn't taken for years, towels, and three rags in sandwich baggies (soapy, wet, dry) in case anyone spills something. I noticed Grandma was wearing house slippers with her slacks instead of her normal stylish shoes. I also noticed she was limping a bit. Inquiring what was wrong she said 'oh just a little sore on my toe'. I kind of shrugged it off in all of the excitement of the coming baby, not knowing, that to a diabetic foot problems wreck havoc.

Grandma corrected her posture for one last glance in the mirror before we set off on our trip. She was still a beautiful lady, as we always told her, she hadn't given in to the normal kinky perm that most grandma's get after a certain age. Her white hair was shoulder length, curled and scrunched at the ends, with hair spray and mousse to keep in place, of course!
She wore dark red lipstick, using the same lipstick as "rouge" to match her cheeks and lips.
I could see the joy on her face to be making this trip. It meant a lot to both of us. Grandma didn't drive and Grandpa no longer could as he was on heavy pain killers due to circulation problems
in his legs. She wasn't able to get out of the house much, because she was afraid to leave Grandpa alone in his condition, so this was a mini-vacation for her. For me, it was a chance to
prove my adulthood because it was the first long trip I was allowed to go on, and especially without another liscensed driver in the car. And ultimately it was her first great grand child, and my first nephew!

It's approximately 5 hours from Parkersburg, WV to Charlotte, NC, we passed the time talking about my new job at the long distance company. Grandma had also worked as a local phone operator in the 1940's, it was interesting to hear how much things had changed. She told me of her childhood, 'when people were poor and didn't know it', how meticulous her mother was in spite of her father's spontaneity, of growing up South Charleston during the war, while both parents worked at the plant, of walking with her father to see a movie while he went to night school, of her brothers and sister, of her previous marriage, of working at the state capitol, and of finally meeting my grandfather. How he asked her to marry him the first night they went on a date. Through all of this it made me realize how grandma thoroughly enjoyed living. How despite the hard times, there was always something to bring a smile to your face and that God is always
the center of true life then, now, and forever.

We arrived in Charlotte before my sister was too far into her labor, so we went ahead and found a hotel. I'd just started a new job, which paid well, so I checked us into the Marriott on Trade Street in Uptown. It was the first valet hotel grandma had been to so it was fun seeing her enthusiastic smiles. We rested for a minute then it was back to the hospital to sit for hours. Around 2 AM I was in dire need for sleep. Grandma said she'd stay and for me to go sleep since I'd have to drive us home the next evening.

In the wee hours of the morning, my nephew was born. Long, lanky little fellow. I snapped pictures with him and everyone and had someone take one with me and him. I was very nervous holding this baby, any baby for that matter, but such a little tiny newborn, I'd never held before. He was anxious to be born, my sister said he nearly fell on the floor while the doctor was turned around. I wondered if she named him Bryce out of homesickness because my parents had lived off of Brice Road in Columbus then. After a wonderful day of visiting and catching up with my sister it was the dreaded time to go. Departure before nightfall was a
necessity, because grandpa was calling on my cell phone worried about us. I think he really missed Grandma more than anything.

We said our good-bye's and started back home. We'd left with plenty of time to get home so we weren't in a hurry. When the exit for Mount Airy popped up, we decided to stop to see the town
where the Andy Griffith Show was based. Floyd's Barber Shop was still there! We had a stranger take our picture in front of the plate glass picture window bearing the famous location and went
back to the journey home. A few miles later was the exit for the Blue Ridge Parkway. I drove to the first scenic area south of the exit and pulled in. The view was astounding. You could see
the rolling hills and plains below unfolding for miles. I looked over at Grandma and she her bright eyes staring like a child full of wonder. I got out of the car to take pictures, but
grandma didn't. Her foot was hurting to bad to walk on from our previous trek through "Mayberry" so I helped her out onto the grass. We looked out in silence for a few minutes. Astonished at the beauty God created.

We again resumed our trip home. Making one last stop to eat at Tamarak in Beckley, West Virginia. For dessert I had pumpkin pie, grandma also had some sweet dessert, which she often did and wasn't supposed to.

Grandma made it back to Grandpa and I made it home. Six months later Grandma had a heart attack. Grandpa barely able to walk, and shaking from Parkinson's, managed to carry her to the couch and call 911. Grandpa was by her side in the local hospital sitting and holding her hand the whole time. But it was she needed to be life-flighted to the Charleston Area Medical Center for immediate heart surgery. Grandpa was beside himself and while we were all making our way to Charleston to be with Grandma, Grandpa's leg was turning cold and black. The next day
my uncle drove him to Columbus to see his vascular surgeon and pain doctor. Grandma came through her heart surgery alright, but went into an unsettling period of unconscious talking. She would ask with a smile on her face "Do you see Jesus?" then go back into her deep sleep.

During this period, grandpa's leg was amputated. Grandma asked where he was, and my aunt told her he was ok, but just needed to see the doctor for a few tests. Nobody thought it was a good time to tell her the complete story in that critical condition.

Eventually she learned what happened to Grandpa and they both recovered enough to be released. Not long afterwards I was promoted to a job in New York and moved away. I guiltily admit the physical separation from them was some sort of relief, not watching the weekly deterioration of their bodies, but each holiday visit made it that much harder to deal with until I'd removed my self emotionally, then covered it up with stress and bad habits of my own creation.

Grandpa was placed in a rest home because nobody could deal with him any longer. He'd been on morphine, delodid, and tylox for 10 years to help him through the pain the circulation problem caused and now he was without it. He became belligerent, angry, and down right cruel to Grandma. He'd bring up his past before he met Grandma, telling her of his affair with a Austrian ballerina, whom he could have a child with. Everyone thought this was a tall tale, but he ended up producing pictures and letters to back up his claim. Grandma's hurt came, not from his current state, but the fact that all these years he'd hidden these tokens of his past from her. He would also stiffen his body so that nobody could touch him and would lash out with his fists sometimes hitting people.

Grandpa wasn't the same after going the rest home. But there a couple of good times. On one visit during the holidays he had us all gather around the piano. Me and grandma played chop sticks and he laughed and laughed. I'm not sure if he was laughing because he was happy or because we were really bad at coordinating with each other. Either way we all laughed until our sides hurt. Grandpa decided to sing "Good Night Irene" for us at the top of his lungs while the other elderly people were eating. Some clapped, but most just looked in our direction dazed and confused. Grandpa especially got a kick out of his great grand child Bryce's mischief. When we'd have to chase the little 2 year old around the serving areas and into the kitchen Grandpa could hardly sit up from his belly laughter. The week after 9/11 my boss in New York allowed me to come home to see my family and work from our Ohio office. We thought it would be neat to surprise grandpa with my visit, but when he saw me he burst into tears. "I thought you were dead, I saw New York collapse, nobody told me...." He cried the whole time and I really didn't know what to do other than hold his hand. My aunt had called the rest home and told them to let him know I was ok during 9/11, either they failed to do so, or he forgot. And I'd felt so bad about moving away.

After I moved back from New York to Columbus in June 2002, the family took a vacation to Myrtle Beach. Grandpa and my mother weren't able to go, but mom kept Grandpa company. I was coming out of my addictions that I'd built up while in New York, so I'm not sure how pleasant I was to be around. The vacation was a sort of awakening for me. I remember bobbing around in waves up to my shoulders with my aunt and cousin telling hilarious "sinful" jokes, which was a "no-no" in front of everyone else. My aunt turned to the more serious conversation of Grandpa and his nearing death. He'd developed stomach cancer and the nurse had told her it may be a few months or a few weeks, but that he was in the last stages. Grandma knew before the vacation, but it seemed to hit her really hard the last 2 days that she'd "left him" for the vacation.

I drove her and my aunt back to Parkersburg and we went to visit grandpa. That was the last time I saw him.

On my 23rd birthday, July 25, I was celebrating with a couple friends at a live band venue downtown. I'd had a few too many drinks when my cell phone rang. I saw it was my mom, in the back of my mind I knew why she was calling. I found a quite alcove inside and she told me the news. Even though I knew it was coming, I didn't know how I'd take it until she actually said it. I burst into tears in the middle of the bar. My pain was real and it didn't matter who saw it. I was glad to be amongst friends at that moment, we sat at the table and they consoled me until I stopped crying, asking me questions about Grandpa. Using corny jokes or funny stories to plug up the tears. We stayed until the band was done and the rest of the wine was gone (mostly by me). I had to be driven back to Kate's apartment where my car was parked and we talked some more about life and death.

My sister called me on my cell phone and we spoke of fun times with grandpa. Like one New Year he let us cover him completely with streamers and left over Christmas ribbons or the time the Dr. Pepper exploded in the car and we all had to wash off in the creek. That night was the first and only time I've been drunk in front of my mother. She didn't say anything about that. She just hugged each other and she apologized that this had to happen on my birthday. I later would think it was more of a blessing and sometimes wonder if Grandpa chose that day to pass away, knowing it was significant to me.

The funeral was hard, but we made it through. I broke down again during the 21 gun salute. My dad was beside me and we hugged one another because I knew that sound always gave him flashbacks of Vietnam. For some reason those sounds just cemented the idea that there would be no more walks in the park, throwing ball, watching deer on the hillside, building canals in the stream, no more projects in the woodshed, no more war stories, no more CB chatter from his room. This was the last time I'd see his mortal body. But once those instant memories were through, a peace and joy came over me that Grandpa was in the presence of God. He was pain free. He was able to smile again. He was free to live forever.

Grandma grieved for a year, nearly two, through which time her health slowly faded. She's had 2 toes amputated and numerous other operations. She currently sits in a hospital, the circulation has stopped to one of her foot. We suspect she snuck into the kitchen or ate cakes on the down low, but other than what we see, nobody can be sure. The doctors haven't decided if they're going to need to amputate her foot. They think the antibiotic will stop the gangrene and they'll be able to cut out the dead parts leaving the foot intact. I'm about to call and find out the news.
I'm afraid to do so.

I keep reaching for the phone to call her, but find myself starring out the window looking at the snow silently falling. Thinking of Grandma and our trip to North Carolina. Thinking of her on the hill. Thinking that was somehow a first and last of many things. Thinking back to when this trouble with her foot manifested then. I'm blessed to still be able to talk to her.

I'm calling now...