When I was about four or five-years-old, my granddad had his first heart surgery. Through the years, my mom has often talked about how she was afraid he was going to die at that time. My Nana even purchased a book, "The Fall of Freddie the Leaf," for my brother and me.
When we lived in Virginia, I exchanged voice recordings on cassette tapes with my Nana and Granddad. It was something we did to keep in contact. It worked. I remember it fondly and I have found myself through the years wondering if any of the tapes are around anywhere.
When we first moved to Virgina, my Nana and Granddad accompanied my mom and me in our cross-country journey.
Even from 3,000 miles away, I had a very close relationship with my grandparents.
When we moved back to California, my mom, brother, and I lived with them for a few months. I lived under their roof when I started first grade at Lydia Jackson in Whittier. We eventually joined dad in the Bay Area where I spent the majority of my first grade year, but by second grade we had moved to Southern California. We lived about 30 minutes from them. Then in eighth grade we moved again and we then lived just two houses up the street from Nana and Granddad. My parents next move took them to the Central Valley, but it was the middle of my senior year, so I moved in with Nana and Granddad. Their house is a piece of my home.
"Home is where the heart is."
A huge part of my heart always remained in that house.
Memories of a teenager...
When I attended the LA County High School for the Arts, I had to commute to school. Some days, we would have rehearsals for our theatre productions that went well into the evening and I would get home very, very late. I was driving at the time. I drove a 1965 VW Bug. As you can imagine, the whole neighborhood knew when I arrived home. The only one who made it obvious that he knew I was arriving home late was my granddad. I remember distinctly the night that he walked out of his house and up the street to ours to actually see that I had arrived home. Of course, he knew I had because he heard my car which prompted the walk up the street at 11 p.m.
My senior year was a bit tumultuous. A year earlier, my mom had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. As my senior year started, I made a difficult decision to leave the arts high school and return to my regular high school in Whittier. Mom's teaching career was coming to an end. Dad was taking a job in a new place. I was needed at home. So, that's what I did. I made sure I could be closer to home. Thankfully, I still had a few friends at Whittier High. Just before Thanksgiving that year, my (paternal) grandma went into the hospital. She went home soon after. Then...just before Christmas, granddad had a heart attack while doing a treadmill test for his cardiologist. They immediately admitted him into Loma Linda and scheduled surgery. I called my dad. "You need to come home." Dad came. The day before Christmas (Eve) 1994, I had the task...the honor... the privilege...of driving my granddad home from the hospital. He was home in time for Christmas and I got to help bring him home. It was awesome.
In early 1995, my (paternal) grandma died. In June, I graduated from high school and immediately moved to the Central Valley, joining my parents.
Throughout adulthood, my granddad has been a champion for me. He has helped me SO much! He has loved me and supported me always. When I was 14, he told me I would be a teacher. I disagreed, saying I would be an entertainment lawyer.
Turns out...
he was right.
He was right about something more recent than that, though. And, this is the one that hurts.
In July, we were at the Ranch and I talked about wanting to come see him in the fall. I told him I would be coming to see him one of two weekends. He told me that he wouldn't be there. He seemed certain that he would die before I made the trip. I told him that the only choice he had was which of the two weekends I would be coming.
Turns out...
he was right.
Tonight, I look back on a very surreal day...a day that brought me so many tears that my head hurt terribly off and on all day and well into the evening...a day that had my mom worrying about me when I should have been taking care of her...a day of sorrow...but in that sorrow, I can look back on amazing joy! My granddad blessed my life and each day of the last 33 years, since that first heart surgery, has been a gift. Thank you granddad. I have to believe that you are reunited with your love, my Nana.
I am far from a singer, but I picked out this song, altered some of the words, and sang it for my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary in 1997. Their love is an example of amazing, eternal love.
