Disappearing Heroes and Leaps of Hoping for Extra Days

It’s another month with another painful moment. This month had some beautiful ones in it as well, as the picture for this entry shows.

The moments we get are fragile, and how many we will have is unknown for multiple reasons beyond my grandpa’s age. For some, these moments are a battle. I guess you could say that they are spoils of war to an extent. I’m going to unpack some of them in this entry, so grab some popcorn and have a seat because there’s going to be a bit on here.

Alright, you good now? Here goes.

So, family stuff has been tenuous for a long time. When you’re the cycle breaker, it’s a bit par for the course. Few people actually want to be held accountable and own their shit. They crumble with fragility and defensiveness. They are often unwilling to see the issue with their impact.

Not him, though. And by him, I mean my grandpa. My grandpa is a hero for so many reasons, and one where he will never disappear is the reason I’m about to tell you about.

A long time ago, as my grandfather was starting the path of his dementia, he told me things. I guess as a writer sometimes people do that. With my grandpa, however, it was a vulnerability that I’ve not seen displayed many times, if at all, anywhere in my lifetime. I sometimes wonder how many times people do what he did in the multiple times he’s given me the gifts he has. I’m still an atheist, but I will attest that these are blessings to me. Or, well, they are the closest thing to it that they can be,

You see, a long time ago, when Grandpa started his decline, he apologised to me about his past wrongs. He had not been great to my grandmother at all. I’d been told several stories of how he treated her that were appalling. My grandmother told me about some of them at the end of her life. He told me more. My father has also told me even more. It’s horrible. However, the beautiful part was in his bigger message.

My grandfather has sadly witnessed in distance and now, in his even older age, how my dad has not been great to me.

Now, before anyone tries to say- oh look, this woman has daddy issues… yep. However, it comes from a connection to my dad, where I have seen some really amazing things, which makes the other parts that much harder to contend with on multiple levels. I’ve tried for years to get my dad to work with them with me, but it’s been a battle.

That part comes later, though.

So, as I was saying, back before my grandpa started to get really bad, he apologized to me for my dad’s behaviour. He admitted to doing several terrible things. He said that he did some of them in front of him. He said he was sorry that my dad was the way he was to me… because he felt responsible. He told me that it was his fault. That he screwed up. That he was sorry.

When my grandma was about to pass, she also expressed remorse about my dad treating me as he often does. She didn’t like it at all. She wanted my dad to do better by me. To do better by her grandkids, which my dad has also affected with his behaviour toward me even if he doesn’t want to own it yet.

My grandparents have always been and will always remain treasures… and now they are closer to disappearing than I would like.

Grandpa is getting up in age. His health is not great at all. He barely remembers things. He needs assistance to do regular tasks. My dad has had to take responsibility and give him 24/7 care. My oldest son also helps (which I’m proud of him- thank you, Ethan), but I know that it affects my dad and my son even if neither of them potentially knows how to process it.

That’s another thing, too. My dad has never been really great about emotions and processing. He is a banker who lives in a very black-and-white world. He often fails to see the nuance. He often denies it when it applies to things he doesn’t want to consider. It’s been the cause of many arguments and… sadly, has made moments like the pictured one that much more difficult… and my grandpa is not the only one who's affected, as I said. I have no idea if the other area will be repaired or if the damage he’s done is just too much.

The moment drinking a milkshake with Grandpa was a small dose of the positives in a mix of rough patches and pain. My dad lives a couple of hours away from me, making things a whole other set of things to contend with when planning family functions and basic things like this.

For a long time, my dad was unwilling to facilitate things. I don’t have a car, and getting to my dad via public transit is a whole series of extra hoops that my dad just used as leverage against family get-togethers because my not having a car meant even more of a sign of poverty to him and well, that is the worst thing ever to him of course.

It’s been a battle with my dad for years… but things changed briefly after I went to Europe- and Italy in particular- a couple of years ago.

*That is yet another story that I will tell another day.

Going to Italy (our familial ancestral homeland) changed the course of things a bit. It made my dad briefly see that hey maybe his daughter was not as terrible as he’d been saying. He ended up loosening up about things. My dad seemed interested and even happy to interact with me simply for a brief time.

Dad started to bring Grandpa first to hear stories of Italy and talk about family stuff… and then general things with Grandpa here and there. For the most part, it’s been dinners or brunch. The moments have been mixed. Some days, like the moment with grandpa here having milkshakes at a 50s dinner, have been great. Others have brought the bad version of my dad out, where he proceeds to berate me in front of my grandpa. In those moments, my grandpa also, on the opposite side, shines.

Grandpa, now even in his far worse condition, returns to the apologetic way that he was in that one moment before he started his dementia path. He looks at my dad, upset, and looks at me with remorse. My dad has been particularly terrible a couple of times, particularly in the last year. Both times, my grandpa told me he was sorry about things. He said that it was his fault. He holds my hand and kisses my cheek. He apologizes and shakes his head about my dad.

He’s still there.

He’s still my hero in his imperfect but vulnerable shining hero model for a future and a true pathway of lessons learned.

However, unfortunately, my dad is still my dad… and my dad told me recently that while my grandpa’s time is limited, he might be taking that away from me. I found out after I elected not to try for a fellowship that if I got, I would have to possibly move for. I didn’t want to risk being far from Grandpa. For me, it wasn’t an option that I could do. I need to be around him as long as I can. I don’t have enough moments left. But my dad told me I might not have them anyway as he said he might move away to places far from me that I would likely never move to.

My dad is determined to be selfish about something even more than he has been in other ways. “I’m not going to be guilted into staying longer for you. I already stayed long enough because of you.”

My dad has a lot of resentment toward me and the state of California. He’s a typical conservative and deeper than I thought. He is at a point where it’s getting even more volatile… and he is once again weaponizing access to someone I love during it.

All of this is to say that today, on Leap Day, I really am living for the extra moments I can where I can. I didn’t see Grandpa today. I’m not sure when I’ll see him next given that my dad and I didn’t have the best interaction at the end of what was otherwise a really good night with my dad (sigh) but I have to try for as many moments as I can before my hero disappears completely.

This part of growing up truly sucks.