Both of Bohemian's grandparents are in their mid-80's. Up until about three years ago, we'd enjoyed regular visits with them. We'd go and take a meal, or we'd go out to dinner together, or we'd hang around watching Grandpa do magic tricks. Sometimes, we'd just watch some of the magic videos Grandpa had videotaped. Grandpa's magic tricks are amazing.
When Grandpa was young, he was in a car accident and, as a result, lost both of his legs. He decided right away that he wasn't going to let that destroy him, and he took up sleight of hand. On any given visit, you can hear someone asking, "How did you DO that?" Grandpa's reply is always, "Very well, I think."
Within the past few years, Grandpa's sight has become poor. He's as sharp as a tack, but his body just doesn't want to keep up with him. Grandma has gone through some very difficult health issues, too, and while it's difficult for her to see and hear, she still has a wonderful sense of humor and always appears to be glad when we visit.
It's not easy to visit elderly people when you have five children, especially when the Great-Grandparents live in a very small house which becomes exceedingly hot as your visit continues. It's also difficult to keep the children occupied in a place where there's no playground, no abundance of toys, and no kid-like activities. Not to mention that the place is so small that there's not a lot of room to move around when there are seven extra people in the house.
But we've always enjoyed our visits. Grandma insists on making sandwiches or providing pizza, or fussing over us in some way. Grandpa always leaves us wanting more magic, and now that Houdin is very interested in magic, there's a wonderful common bond.
A couple of years ago, a rumor came to us from my husband's side of the family that the Great-Grandparents didn't want any more visitors. They had refused a visit from my sister-in-law and had declined an offer to have my other sister-in-law live in to help care for them. I was really very sad that we wouldn't be visiting, especially with the legacy that Grandpa was giving Houdin with his magic tricks. I called the Great-Grandparents on a few occasions, and I wrote a few letters, but communicating by phone or in writing isn't easy for people who have a hard time seeing and hearing.
So, in recent times, I've felt very unsettled about our visits--or non-visits, I should say--and have often felt led just to call them and ask if they truly no longer want visitors.
But I haven't. I guess I was afraid of the answer.
When we had our Family Gathering in October, my mother-in-law decided to ask the Great-Grandparents if they'd like to come out for a day, to have a family photo taken and see our new home. These people. who never leave home, came with my in-laws to spend a day with us. While Grandma shopped with us, Grandpa spent the day showing Houdin some card tricks. The family photo was precious. I thought it was a very good day, and was so grateful for their visit.
On their way out, Grandpa leaned out the car window and said to me with a smile, "We live in Suchandsuchtown, you know? It's about an hour and a half from here? Visit sometime."
My oh my. Does he think I've been staying away because I WANT to? Family is so incredibly important to me! I have no grandparents of my own. I've been blessed with my husband's family, who had both sets of grandparents living until four years ago. Their lives are so very important to me.
Well, after an invitation like that, I didn't want to stay away. But I still wondered if he was just being kind...polite.
A couple of weeks later, my father-in-law called and asked Bohemian if we would be willing to go visit with the grandparents twice a month, to see if they needed to do any grocery shopping or to do any things that needed done around the house. Now, I was totally confused. Do they want visitors, or do they not? Will I be helping them, or will I be imposing on them? We decided that all we could do would be to try it. Just go and see.
So we did.
Our visits have been good, for the most part. Because their house is so hot, The Baby tends to get a bit loopy and rosy-cheeked while we're there. Grandma gets too concerned about seeing that we eat, even if we've already eaten. Even if we bring our own food. She wants to be sure to be a good hostess. I can understand that completely. But I do so wish she wouldn't worry.
Over the past couple of weeks, we've made plans to visit but weren't able because of very bad weather. Our county had a terrible ice-storm that left most of the residents without power for anywhere from a few hours to over a week. Our power was off from the day before Christmas Eve through a week later. But yesterday, we were able to make the journey to the Great-Grandparents house. We even ate before we left, a wonderful lunch of Turkey Carcass Soup (it really is very good).
As soon as we arrived, I asked Grandma if she needed to go to the grocery store. I know how she likes to get out of the house, and I know how she likes to shop. She was all dressed and ready to leave the house. Her tiny frame, a foot shorter than my own 5' 2", dressed in a white blouse and black slacks, her shoes on and ready to go. She wanted to go into the kitchen first, to see what there was to eat and to decide what to get while we were out. I went along ahead of her, Bohemian just behind me, and Great-Grandma almost at his side. As I stepped into the kitchen, the floor shook with a great noise. We had only been in the house a few minutes--less than five, I'm sure--and I turned quickly to see which of my children had tripped or dropped something or knocked something over. There, on the floor, was Great Grandma. She had fallen flat on her face.
I rushed to her, Bohemian right behind me. What had happened??? Grandma? What happened? My mind was racing. Did she have a heart attack? Did she pass out? She was obviously in pain, but I couldn't tell where the pain was. Bo and I knelt beside her.
"Grandma? Where does it hurt? Do you know what happened?"
"I think I slipped on a shoe," she answered. I looked beyond her feet, and there, in the middle of the hallway, was Sweetheart's black boot. She had probably not had it off longer than a minute, and she stood in the doorway with her mouth hanging open.
I looked back to Grandma. A small trickle of blood began to run down her face from a cut above her left eyebrow. Her glasses had slammed into her face when she hit. I took the glasses off and whispered to Bo to get me a napkin. Grandpa had made his way to Grandma's side, walking himself with his hands.
"Mom? Mom are you okay? What happened?" He asked her, not panicked but taking charge. She answered him that her arm was under her and that she wanted to sit up. I shoo-ed the kid from the room as Bo and I helped Grandma to her feet. Her shoulder was sore. Maybe even out of socket. But she didn't want to go to the hospital. They had given her too much of the wrong medication the last time she went. She just wanted to wait and see how it felt later.
She was still concerned about making sandwiches.
Sweetheart came to me, tears in her eyes. She whispered in my ear, "Mom. It was my shoe. I'm sorry." I hugged her and told her that I forgave her, but that now she could see why we insist on keeping the shoes out of the way. She nodded.
Grandma kept an ice pack on her arm, and she wouldn't stop fussing about food, so I finally went out for pizza. Even after the pizza came, she wanted to know how many pizzas we ordered, so she could be ready next time.
As we were leaving, I gave Grandpa my cell-phone number. Grandma was sure she was fine, and she wanted to wait and see her own doctor in the morning. She was sure she could get one of her girlfriends to take her to the doctor's office. She wanted to take the bandage off of her eye, but when we did, it started bleeding again. I felt so horrible.
"I'm so sorry," I said. I knew she didn't want sympathy. She'd said several times that she didn't want us looking at her all sad.
"I'm sorry, too," she said, "We're all sorry. None of us wanted this to happen, but it did, so we just go on. We can't feel bad about it."
Grandpa piped up from his chair, "Grandma's game is to pretend she's not in pain. She doesn't like to show anyone that she hurts."
My heart was so full of sadness.
On the way home, we listened to Delilah. Five for Fighting's 100 Years came on. A tear slipped down my cheek. In the back seat, Bard, my own 15 was crying, too.
Tucking Sweetheart into bed. "I'm really sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to make Grandma fall."
A lesson learned. Put your shoes away.
