...in sickness and in health....

I think one of the greatest gifts my family has given me is the legacy of keeping wedding vows. My dad's parents were married for over 65 years before my grandpa passed away at age 90 last fall. My mom's parents just celebrated their 62nd anniversary in May. My mom's dad took a turn for the worse earlier this week, and my brothers and I drove down last night to say goodbye and to be together as a family once more during his last days. Gramarie and Pop-pop have been through many years of health, but now he is in the last days of sickness. And my grandma continues to hold him and cherish him as her husband, and every time I see them interact, I am struck by the way they are living out their wedding vows even till death parts them.

Pop-pop can't swallow anything. They gave him swallowing tests at the hospital this week and learned that everything-- everything-- he swallows is going straight to his lungs. They said that if they give him an IV they'll just prolong his agony, that it's actually not the loving thing to do. So he is on modified hospice care, and he came back home to my parents' house yesterday. He's sleeping in a hospital bed so he can sleep in a quasi-sitting position to ease some of his breathing. The big debate his first night home was that Gramarie wanted to know how she was going to sleep in the hospital bed with him since it's only a twin and he's taking up most of the space. I guess if you're used to having someone in your bed every night for sixty-two years, it must feel pretty lonely to sleep alone.

The nurse was here today, massaging Pop-pop's legs, feet, and hands-- trying to give him some relief. Gramarie asked her repeatedly what she could do to help him. Angie (the nurse) told her, "Just massage his hands; he likes that. Or you can wipe his forehead with a wet cloth." Gramarie took his hand and showed it to the nurse: "Have you ever seen such hard-working hands? He's a good one, this guy."

My parents said one of the best gifts they've had over the past few months is the memory of seeing how much my grandparents still enjoy each other. Gramarie can be distracted for a few minutes at a time, but the topic always at the forefront of her mind is "I have to check on Bill-- he might need me." Over the past few months if he was napping, she'd climb into bed next to him, hold his hand, and fall asleep also. If he was sitting at the table, she'd pull her wheelchair up next to his and make sure he had everything he needed-- in the last few meals he ate, she literally spoon-fed him since he didn't have interest in feeding himself.

I'm thankful that all four of my grandparents and both of my parents take their promises seriously. I'm thankful that when they said they were in it for the long haul, they meant it. That when life hasn't been pretty or easy or fun, they've pressed on. And not even grudgingly-- the hard patches have somehow knit them closer together and made them even more in love with each other.

And that's a pretty amazing legacy.