a letter to my grandfather

This is a letter that I would like to send to my maternal grandfather, who was called Pop-Pop by all of his grandchildren. He died in 1990, but there are some things that I would like to say to him. So I am writing this as a letter that I would like to send to him. I wrote a similar post to his wife, who I called Noon, on her birthday in December.

Hi Pop-Pop.

Today is your 105th birthday, so happy birthday.

I regret that I never really got to know you as a person. I remember visiting your home often as a child. You would usually be sitting in your rocking chair on the front porch, or in your chair in the living room. I would say hello to you as I was walking by, often to find Noon. We didn't say much to each other. The longest conversation that I can remember us having was once when I asked you about your experiences in Viet Nam, where you worked as a civilian for the military during the Viet Nam war era. You talked for what seemed like an hour about your experiences. I don't remember you being so animated in discussing anything else. I still have the little jacket that you sent to me in 1966 from Viet Nam.

You now have five greatgrandchildren, four more than when you died at age 85. All of your grandchildren graduated from college, and three of us have advanced degrees, so we were late in having children.

There is one thing about you that always bothered me, Pop-Pop - your racism. Our family is generally mellow, but the biggest argument that I can remember was about your racism. Your oldest daughter, who I'll call Lisa, had one of her coworker's brother die on the job as a police officer. You said, and I cringe writing this, "The only good (N word) is a dead (N word)." She started yelling and you yelled back. She got up and left, and if it had happened now, I would have too, but I was at most 12 years old at the time. You grew up in the segregated southern United States, so I guess it was because of the attitudes that you were taught, but I expect better of my grandparents. But I accepted you and loved you as you were. In some ways, in may have been good that you died before I brought David home to meet the family, since you may not have handled it well. I never officially came out to the extended family, but they figured it out and I've had nothing but acceptance. You might not have handled having two of your three grandsons being gay.

I also worry about what killed you, colon cancer. My mother has had colon polyps removed, so the risk for cancer is there in her. I'll get checked out once I'm a little older.

Near the end of your life, you were worried that Noon was having affairs with other men. That is just ridiculous knowing her. But it seems to be a common fear of men if they have mild dementia, as I think you had. You once told one of your other grandchildren that you thought she was having an affair with my father, and it was all my cousin could do not to laugh at you, since the thought of the two of them having an affair was so outrageous.

You are part of the reason that I named my blog "green ectomorph" and that my email address is "greenandpurplelizard." Your last or surname was Green, but it was originally Greene. I think that it was your father the dropped the final "e" after too many ignorant people tried to pronounce it "Greeny." There were green lizards in the bushes around your front porch, and they would climb up the screens. When I was a kid, you told me that you had a pet lizard named Greeny that you kept outside in the bushes, and every time that I would look for him I would find one. I never caught on that it was a different lizard each time. I do have good memories of spending time with you, but not nearly as many as with Noon.

You surprised everyone by converting to Catholicism just a few months before you died. Your family didn't continue in the church, in that none of your grandchildren attend church now. Yes, all but one of us graduated from Catholic high schools, but we weren't really given a choice.

I hope that you enjoyed your life, Pop-Pop. You never talked about your emotions and were so stoic. It's strange that I don't know if you were happy or not.

the dripping faucet that is my nose

I've got a cold again. No big deal, but my nose is dripping at all the wrong times. I'll be talking to someone at work and suddenly the dripping starts. Kinda awkward to stop and wipe it, but it's better than dripping on something or someone.

David is more ill than I am. He's probably got another sinus infection. At some point this winter we may actually have all three of us well at the same time, but I don't think that it's happened so far.

David and the family seem to be doing OK with his grandfather's death. Leo's asked a few questions, all reasonable ones. He's had David's two maternal grandparents die, but he was younger and didn't really know them like he did Greatgrandpa Jim.

Grandpa/Greatgrandpa Jim, 1919-2010

David's paternal grandfather, and Leo's greatgrandfather, Jim, died last night. He was 90, almost 91. We received a phone call just after lunch from Millie (my mother in law) that Phil (my father in law) had been called from a local Emergency Department that Jim had a large cerebral hemorrhage (a stroke with bleeding in the brain), and that the family should come to the ED now. When we arrived Jim wasn't moving the right side of his body and would only occasionally open his eyes. The ED physician (who David referred to as "Dr. Hottie - he's got that nerd thing goin' that I like so much" - guess that explains why David was attracted to me) explained that there was a large amount of blood in the left side of Jim's brain, and that in a person Jim's age the situation was usually fatal within a few days. Jim's wife, two children, his only grandson and greatgrandson (David and Leo) were there, and his sister was coming in from her home about 3 hours away. Leo was a little scared or intimidated at first but later warmed up and held Jim's hand. After a few hours we left when EMTs arrived to take Jim to a hospital covered by his insurance.

David has been ill the last few days, and I had to wake him up from a nap to go to the ED. He didn't want to go to the other hospital, and Leo had had enough of hospitals. I asked if David wanted to go back later to see his grandfather, but he didn't. Mille called about 11:30 PM to tell us that Jim had died.

I am trying to help David, but the reality is that he doesn't need any help. He's not sad, since he saw this coming for a long time. At Thanksgiving he talked with his grandfather, only to have his grandfather ask his mother why David wasn't there. The other reason, really the main reason, that David isn't sad is that he wasn't close to his grandfather. Despite living about 30 miles apart, the family only got together once or twice a year when David was growing up. That was because Phil had a very strained relationship with his father. So David doesn't have good memories of his grandfather from his childhood.

But Jim was an involved and loving greatgrandfather to Leo. In his 80s he would get down on the floor and play with Leo, which David said his grandfather never did with him. I think Jim was raised by a strict German father who taught him that men didn't show emotions and left childcare to women. So Jim missed the chance to have a close relationship with his grandson but he didn't make the same mistake with his greatgrandson.

Unfortunately, Jim didn't make any funeral arrangements, so his wife (who is his second wife, not David's grandmother) is trying to do that now, but she doesn't seem to be able to make decisions from what we hear.

This Sunday was supposed to be Millie and Phil's wedding (getting remarried 29 years after their divorce), but we're not sure if Phil will want to get married soon after his father died.