Yesterday was Grampa John's birthday. He turned 86. He's damn old. And he knows it. He's also completely ok with my teasing him about it. Which is good, because the teasing isn't going to stop. He's 86, in decent shape (considering how old he is), but also has a really bad heart and is basically taking care of my gramma (for the moment - she'll be taking care of him again in a few weeks).
I'm a lot like my Grampa. I'm a tease (not just with the dudes), he's a tease. I'm a brat, he's a brat. I laugh at my own jokes, he laughs at his own jokes. Often, we're the only two who laugh at each others' jokes. And we know why it's so funny. Doesn't matter that no one else gets it. And that's just funny for us. And then we laugh harder. My Gramma has said on several occasions, "She has a weird connection with all the men in our family," and it's true. I have strange (not in a gross, creepy way) relationships and bonds with all the dudes in my family. And I rather like it that way. 'Cause most of 'em are kick-ass.
Grampa and I can sit around for hours talking. I don't always have any idea what he's talking about since he kinda rambles and jumps topics with no warning whatsoever. But, nonetheless, we can talk for quite a while. He has great war stories, love stories, funny stories, any kind of story you can imagine - and he's a fairly decent yarn spinner, albeit sometimes so detailed you can't keep up with the plot.
A lot of who I am is my Grampa. He can't just sit. Well, he can when he's super tired. He always feels like he needs to be doing something. I'm the same way. Completely. And that gets me in trouble a lot - I get so busy I stress out... or my boyfriend calls me high strung and yells at me for not calming down.
Anyhow, that's just backstory.
Last week, my Gramma was in the hospital, so Grampa and I got quite a bit of bonding time and had some good conversations and a ton of laughs - even about death.
Two days before his birthday, Gramma came home. We had a party for him on his birthday and his "rump" (as he calls it) got tired of sitting on the hard chairs so he sat in a big soft chair in the same room. He wasn't interjecting into the conversation, looked slightly bored, and almost fell asleep. That's lame, 'cause it was his birthday party. I went and sat on the couch next to the chair and started talking to him.
Eventually, Grampa just grabbed my hand and held it. We just sat there. Kinda talking, kinda not. Laughing at random things for no reason. Holding hands. I don't remember the last time I held Grampa's hand. It was kinda strange - and honestly, a little uncomfortable since I wasn't sure why he wanted to hold my hand (not that it matters).
All I know is I held his hand.
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