A delightful phrase that you often throw at a friend, or relative of someone, who has had a long and successful life.
My Grandfather is 87 and currently in hospital. In truth, he has not been himself for many years. Last month he had a fall in his flat. The paramedics, that broke into his property to rescue him, advised he had been laying on the floor for about 10 hours. Our family lives 50 miles away. We raised the alarm, after we were unable to reach him by phone. His kind neighbours went to check on him and spotted him lying on the ground, through a window.
After a thorough check up, the doctors advised us that he had a severe chest infection. A CT scan revealed a small bleed on the brain. He was also covered in little bumps and bruises and totally confused.
When my parents visited his flat to prepare a suitcase for him, they were shocked at what they found. His apartment was filthy. My Grandfather likes to live alone. Likes his own space, his own newsagent, fish and chip shop down the street and his own way. He never wanted to move closer to the rest of the family. He is a very private man. He is also not taking care of himself. My Mum makes four phone calls per day to my Grandfather. He expects these calls religiously and at certain times. He only wants to talk to my mother and will only consider alternatives, if absolutely necessary. My parents cleaned his flat from top to bottom. Changed his bed. Cleaned his bathroom and washed all his clothes. My Mum was devastated that her father had been living like this.
My Mum and Dad are at his bedside daily. Some visits are lovely, some are emotional as they all sit and reminisce. Then there are the days that we all dread – the mean days. My Grandfather now has tantrums, which lead him to be nasty, to his family and nursing staff. He has even started throwing things around the ward. The support network, of our family, formed almost instantly. My Grandfather is supported by my Mother, who then leans on my Dad, who in turn leans on me and I lean on my husband and friends.
Each heartbreaking day of no answers or specific diagnosis is difficult. We all remember the man that was. This new chapter is very tough. Everything about my Grandfathers life and his current struggle, is often trivialised by one sentence
‘Well, he is 87. That’s good innings’
I have been thinking a lot about the long and successful life of my Grandfather. He married the love of his life in his early 20s. They had two daughters. Their first daughter was called Linda and she died at just 14 days old. My Nan then went on to suffer two miscarriages, before having my Mother. My Grandfather had a successful career as a bricklayer and would often talk about the famous people, he met on the job. They had nice cars and nice holidays. My Nan passed away suddenly at 60 years old, leaving my Grandfather broken hearted. He then spent the next 25 years with another lady, who sadly passed away in 2017.
I mourned the loss of my Grandfather in 1991, when my Nan died. For me, he hasn’t been the same since then. He was awful to me as a teenager, after her death and damaged our relationship beyond repair. As heartbreaking as that is, I am able to be stronger and more supportive to my Mum as a result. I feel quite emotionally removed from it all. My brother is keeping his head down, as he does not deal with highly charged, emotional situations well at all. It’s messy but we are getting through it.
I have not seen him since the fall. My Mum feels that it’s best we don’t see him this way. My Mum wants me to remember him as I saw him growing up. My larger than life Gramps, who used to sing Nat King Cole songs to me. The man who would carry me everywhere when I was little. The holidays, the car rides, the movies…the man before his heart was broken. The man before life jaded him.
I can do that.
We are all hoping he bounces back. We are all hoping, that he has a few more years with us. If the worst should happen, I hope I am able to help my Mum through it. Help her remember the man before his broken heart. The man that would sing Nat King Cole songs to her. The man that would carry her everywhere when she was little. The holidays, the car rides and the movies. The good innings and the joys of his long and successful life…