Granpa is so weak now.
His voice hasn’t lost any of its volume nor his conversational responses their curtness.
His body is letting him down. I’m sure it’s difficult for anyone to watch their body fail. I imagine it’s especially tough for a man.
Us men – who are hardwired for protecting, providing, and wearing brave faces. Us who are expected to be strong and reliable.
He’s from a time where beliefs prevailed like not asking for help unless – well, you don’t ask for help. You look for ways to beat this thing, to come out better, to come out on top. You know you’ll figure it or that you’ll bounce back. You wrestle for as long as it takes or until an angel breaks your hip. You’ve beaten everything else so far. What’s aging?
You sit comfortably in denial and disbelief. Maybe the feeling of betrayal too. Not you. You’ve been strong and capable your whole life.
I get that it’s a mandatory part of the cycle. Every heart has only so many beats.
It’s not easy to watch my grandfather go through this.