When I was nine years old and my brother was six or seven years old, my mother put us on an airplane, waved "goodbye" and sent us across the country to visit our Grandma and Grandpa Noll in Arizona--for five weeks. It was hands down one of the best summers of my life. I would wake up early with the sunrise and sit outside on the screened in porch sipping chocolate milk and reading the comics while they read the newspaper. I worked hard that summer to befriend their skittish cat, Sarah, offering plate after plate of tuna and moving very slowly to try to pet her. My brother and I swam for hours every day in their pool. We would dive for coins, rings, or pretend little games like "pirates" or "mermaids" (my brother wouldn't be caught dead being a mermaid--he was the pirate). After exhausting ourselves in the water, we could sit on the warm porch with an ice cold Root Beer. I'd read fairy tales while I dried off. Then we would go inside and watch episodes of Gilligan's Island or Tiny Toons. Sometimes, with the Arizona heat radiating off the walls and the ground, we would walk along the alley behind their house armed with rubber bands to stun and catch lizzards who sunned themselves on the stucco walls.
Grandma and Grandpa took us places too. We went to church where they had beautiful stained glass and special benches to "pray on." Communion was real wine and fancy wafers, so different from our church back home which met in the local middle school and drank grape juice and ate broken crackers. I will never forget a trip to Rawhide, a "real" old western town which brought to life legends like Annie Oakley and Wyatt Earp. We watched re-enacted shoot outs, walked through the dusty town and ate some really good hamburgers. Jason got a cowboy hat, which he put on Simon the cat, who tore out of there like greased lighting. The hat was never seen again. We went to Sea World and the San Diego Zoo. Needless to say, when it was time to go home, we didn't want to go.
My Grandma used to tell me such fun stories from her childhood. She would tell me how she met my grandpa. He was the cute basketball player. She would tell me about a school girl she did not like much and put a dead snake in her locker. My Grandma had spunk. She would also tell me, when I got older, about her father who developed Alzheimers. "I never want Alzheimer's" she would tell me. "It is such a sad thing to lose your mind."
Despite living very far away from my grandparents for most of my life, they have found ways to significantly invest in our lives, from traveling to visit us, to hosting us for visits. Now that I have my own family, still on the opposite side of the country, visits are fewer than what we would like.
My Grandma was diagnosed with Alzheimer's several years ago. We don't tell her she has Alzheimer's--although the doctor did once. It shattered her. Thankfully, she has since forgotten. Sometimes she will tell my Grandpa, "I never want Alzheimer's. I don't think I will get it." And he tells her, "No, I don't think you will." He does what he can to protect her and shelter her. He takes such good care of her. He tells jokes to make her laugh and lighten her when she is troubled about not being able to remember things. And she still laughs at his jokes. I so much appreciate their example of growing old through the good and the bad and remaining so deeply in love.
A few weeks ago, Josh was able to take me on a business trip with him to Arizona, while his parents visited and watched over our children. I was able to visit for a fabulous three days with my Uncle Wally and my Grandpa and my Grandma. It is a difficult post to write because of the layers of emotions. Happiness for any time spent with them. Thankfulness for the things Grandma does remember. She is still spunky and she compensates very well. Sadness to see more details fading. Determination to protect her from knowledge of this terrible disease and admiration of my Grandfather for being her rock. It was so nice to think that while I was enjoying time with some very important people in my life, my own kids were soaking in the attention of their own Grandparents and making bonds that I have no doubt will last far into their adult lives.
"The history of our Grandparents is remembered not with rose petals,
but in the laughter and tears of their children's children. It is into us that the lives of Grandparents have gone. It is in us that their history becomes a future."
--Charles and Ann Morse
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