Slap Shot
I got nothing
This is not a good bye post, but rather just a bit of refelction.
The family took our annual trip to Fayetteville, Arkansas for Thanksgiving to visit the family patriarch, my Grandpa Carl Maedl, who turned 102 in February. My parents drove down from Mpls separately, along with myself and my family and the families of my brother, sister and three cousins (half of which come down from the Chicago area). In all Grandpa has 2 daughters, 6 grandkids and 9 great grandkids to date.
Most years have been festive and well attended except for the usual things that come up. This year felt different. Obviously at the age of 102 you have to expect that someone will not be the same as they were. However, Grandpa has managed to be quite vital the past 5 years since his wife passed (they were married an amazing 72 years) so nothing is a suprise. However, he has managed to avoid major health issues and was able to tell the same stories we've heard for decades and remembered our names while sometimes asking us what grade we were in despite the fact most of us had been done with school fof years.
He's lived in a retirement community in Fayetteville since 1986. Not the usual place if you will, a very good majority of the residents were self-sufficent, but of course they have building that houses the less able bodied and minded residents. Since the death of Grandma he didn't necessarily lose his will until it was apparent that family interreaction would never be the same. God Bless my mom and her sister who managed to make the drive there 3-5 times per year recently to remind him of his legacy, but obviously it was clear things would never be the same.
Our trip this year was the usual - drive down on Wed, have Thanksgiving lunch together at the community and have a pizza party on Friday night, where Grandpa was game enough to have a few slices and as well as a cup each of German beer and wine.
This year he fell asleep more often than usual and it carried with it an atypical aura. When it was time to wheel him back to his room for our final visit, we passed by someone playing the piano and we all stopped for a listen. It was a beautifual song that I wish I knew the name of, but shortly thereafter Grandpa said please bring him back to his room.
What normally would have led to one last session of story telling (WWII, the St. Louis World's Fair, the life he led in the US Panama Canal zone, etc.) instead was filled with tears. I cannot remember the last time I cried unctontrollaby nor seeing my older brother and father in the same state. Again you have know deep down that Grandpa can't live forever, but there was a tremendous feeling of sorrow in that room that I can't get out of my mind.
I don't know what my intent here is at all, but if there's anything it's to remind everyone to truly remember all that is important and never take for granted the time that you have with those that matter. I know many here have already been through this so I'm not trying to preach in the least. I'm no sage and no more in tune with these matters than anyone else, but something about this trip really struck a chord in me.
God bless to everyone here and to all of yours.
The family took our annual trip to Fayetteville, Arkansas for Thanksgiving to visit the family patriarch, my Grandpa Carl Maedl, who turned 102 in February. My parents drove down from Mpls separately, along with myself and my family and the families of my brother, sister and three cousins (half of which come down from the Chicago area). In all Grandpa has 2 daughters, 6 grandkids and 9 great grandkids to date.
Most years have been festive and well attended except for the usual things that come up. This year felt different. Obviously at the age of 102 you have to expect that someone will not be the same as they were. However, Grandpa has managed to be quite vital the past 5 years since his wife passed (they were married an amazing 72 years) so nothing is a suprise. However, he has managed to avoid major health issues and was able to tell the same stories we've heard for decades and remembered our names while sometimes asking us what grade we were in despite the fact most of us had been done with school fof years.
He's lived in a retirement community in Fayetteville since 1986. Not the usual place if you will, a very good majority of the residents were self-sufficent, but of course they have building that houses the less able bodied and minded residents. Since the death of Grandma he didn't necessarily lose his will until it was apparent that family interreaction would never be the same. God Bless my mom and her sister who managed to make the drive there 3-5 times per year recently to remind him of his legacy, but obviously it was clear things would never be the same.
Our trip this year was the usual - drive down on Wed, have Thanksgiving lunch together at the community and have a pizza party on Friday night, where Grandpa was game enough to have a few slices and as well as a cup each of German beer and wine.
This year he fell asleep more often than usual and it carried with it an atypical aura. When it was time to wheel him back to his room for our final visit, we passed by someone playing the piano and we all stopped for a listen. It was a beautifual song that I wish I knew the name of, but shortly thereafter Grandpa said please bring him back to his room.
What normally would have led to one last session of story telling (WWII, the St. Louis World's Fair, the life he led in the US Panama Canal zone, etc.) instead was filled with tears. I cannot remember the last time I cried unctontrollaby nor seeing my older brother and father in the same state. Again you have know deep down that Grandpa can't live forever, but there was a tremendous feeling of sorrow in that room that I can't get out of my mind.
I don't know what my intent here is at all, but if there's anything it's to remind everyone to truly remember all that is important and never take for granted the time that you have with those that matter. I know many here have already been through this so I'm not trying to preach in the least. I'm no sage and no more in tune with these matters than anyone else, but something about this trip really struck a chord in me.
God bless to everyone here and to all of yours.
