Didn't finish my NaNo. Partly because I've realized that, for the time being, crochet is where my creative juices are best served. Mostly because this place is so cluttered and messy most of the time that it's hard to think straight when I try. Good news is the basement has been officially started, although I expect that to take another 4-6 weeks before I can move anything in there. It bothers me a little bit that they don't ask me to help with the work. It makes me feel lazy and that they can lodge complaints about my laziness to their friends the same way I do them. But I probably would get far too frustrated with their lack of organized leadership to be of much help, and it's not my house so I'm not going to take charge.
[Deleted complaints against excessive PDAs between roommates and their girlfriends.]
Went home for Thanksgiving and had a wonderful time, although I would have liked to have talked to my grandpa a little more. Didn't get there until just after everyone else had finished eating and then he sat down to try and watch a football game. I did successfully help him out of his dining room chair, though. My youngest sister had tried holding his hands across his walker, but he just couldn't get enough momentum. After waiting a tick to give him a rest, I offered my help. The trick is to get beside the person and put the crook of your elbow under their armpit. It causes less bruising, is easier on everyone's joints and muscles, and it also allows both parties to gauge how much assistance is actually required. It's just a gentler way to help and, bonus, if the person getting up starts to lose balance, it's easier to prevent a fall.
It was my last memory of him. Well, one of my aunts also made him show me his bird exercises, which involves flapping your arms and making bird noises. I think we were both/all a little embarrassed about it. It would be one thing if it were his regular time to do those and we all did them together, but to turn it into a display...just didn't feel right to me. Helping him out of his dining chair and letting him walk to his recliner assisted only by his walker feels more genuine to me and our relationship.
Why is it that we learn so much about our family only after they have passed?
I want to put something together about his life someday, but am not ready to process all of those emotions right now. His last day and funeral services were very sweet, though. Over the last few years, he had become pretty active in his local parish. He had always gone before, but he seemed to be making more of an effort to be involved instead of just passive. Or I was just starting to hear about it. Father Bala, from India, had a lot to do with that, I think. My dad said he came out to the house on the prairie at least once a month to visit, and officiated at both of their services. Friday, he told a story of when he had first come to the parish and the previous priest was about a foot taller than him, but there were no other vestments, so he wore what he had. My grandfather affirmed that he would be coming to visit the next day and gave him some money to go down to Milwaukee and "get something that fits you." He wore some of those vestments to the service. There was also a picture on the picture boards of my grandpa holding the vestments while Father Bala blessed them with holy water.
Other pictures on the board included some from his last day, and even some of his final moments. He had gone to the parish's Mass for Seniors, which was followed by a Christmas party for the seniors. They even had cheesy potatoes, which he loved. He was smiling pretty big and was surrounded by family. My aunt and uncle took him to their home afterwards (my dad is indignant about their not even driving past or making a stop at the Big House), where he collapsed upon coming home. He was 91 and in stage 4 heart failure after a life that included 2 heart attacks and 4 stints being put in his heart. So, his dying surprised no one, but the circumstances were definitely unpredictable.
My dad told me his older brother had told him of a time when they had been sitting on the church bench on the porch when my grandpa looked out and said, "I never thought I'd have all this." And, if you knew his life, you'd understand. When my dad told me that, I thought of how he will probably say the exact same thing on the other side. And how the faithful will all probably have similar reactions come Judgement Day. And now the tears are coming.
But it's the day before Christmas and my steering/alignment has been acting funny (and I'm due for an oil change in four days), so I ought to change my clothes and my pad (yes, my period came between my grandfather's funeral and Christmas), scrape off my windows, see if the shop is open (or wait until Wednesday), finish my shopping, start my roommate wrapping, and get back the weariness of living.
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