Our 4th

Yesterday we went up to Bakersfield as we usually do for the 4th. My grandparents are up there, and my parents drove up from Flagstaff to be with all of us. It was bittersweet. I'm still trying to cope, and I'm pretty down today.

My grandfather is in really bad shape. He has a slew of lung problems, one of which was MRSA pneumonia. He's free and clear of that now, but he also has a type of non-contagious tuberculosis that is literally making him fight for air. Last week my grandmother fell down some stairs and broke her femur. She ended up needing surgery, and right now she's in convalescent care until she can move around by herself. She's undergoing a TON of physical therapy so she can get out of there and go home--but once she's there, we don't know how she'll move around since their home is a bungalow-style one with steps leading up to the house. The same night she fell, my grandfather went into respiratory distress, called the paramedics, and we later found out he suffered a pretty major heart attack. So...he was in ICU, and grandma was in the hospital for her leg all on the same day. Last week was pretty rough.

Yesterday, as per tradition we all headed up to the house, packed our swimwear, and bought some really cool fireworks to set off. When we arrived, the second I saw grandpa I wanted to embrace him and cry. He was feeble and shaky, and there was no spark in his eyes. He looked defeated, sad, and helpless. I realized the time I have been dreading since I was a little girl was near. This was the man who proudly flew the American flag every 4th of July from the pole he cemented into his driveway. He's the Marine who paraded around his living room - old rifle in hand as he watched the Marine Corps band on an Independence Day TV special. He's the proud Korean War veteran sharpshooter who would have gladly died for his country. He's the bravest man I know, who gave up 30 years of smoking the day he finished the Book of Mormon. He's the loving grandfather who took us to the beach in the summer when we were little, and spoiled us rotten for an entire week out of every year. The funny thing is, he's not even biologically my grandfather. He's my "step-dad's" father, whom I've known since I was three. I've never known a life without him and I've always secretly wished I was blood related -- most of the time I forgot I wasn't.

It was hard to see him broken yesterday, and I've had a really hard time accepting what's inevitably going to happen. Both of my grandparents are so dear to me, and I honestly can't imagine what life will be like without them. It's time to start imagining though, because I know the time is near. I don't want to talk about the fireworks or the BBQ or all the swimming we did yesterday. None of that matters at all. I just wanted to share a little with you about my dear sweet grandfather. Last night as we left, I asked him to call me if there was anything he needed. His only reply was "just visit". I think he knows too.