Grandpa Dundee

O.K...I'm totally late to the party...but I hope you'll walk with me a little anyway. To share your own sweet memories click the button above and link up on Lynette's blog. Happy Wednesday Walking...



Today, I just wanted to share a little about my Grandpa Dundee. That's what we called him when we were kids, (because he had a Crocodile Dundee hat). It was a late eighties movie for those of you who have no idea who Crocodile Dundee is. Anyway...Grandpa Dundee has always been quite a character. He would always tell us stories...elaborate, unbelievable stories. We never really knew if they were true or not, but then again, Grandpa was such a character anything seemed possible. One story involved a bar and a peacock. Some were from his boxing days...or stories about other interesting characters he knew. He served in the army, and then worked construction in the mountains. He was on the crews that blew up mountains and made roads through them. (Yes, I know that could have been described much better...but I'm not on top of my game today, O.K.?) He had an Atari and an Intellivision that we loved. And a keyboard that played different rhythms. He usually lived in places that had hills or mountains...so it was always a beautiful drive. Much more to feast our eyes on than the flat lands of our home in the Midwest. I especially loved to visit him in the fall when the trees were changing colors. Gorgeous tree-covered mountain splendor. We would play car bingo and eat snacks on the way. One time, we found the best walking stick ever and walked around the mountains with our find. My brothers loved it! You really can't beat a good walking stick. Grandpa was telling us stories about mountain lions (which may or may not have actually lived in the area) while we walked.

Don't ask me why...but right now I'm remembering a story my mom told me about when she was young and they lived in the hills. They had a neighbor they called "Billy-Rud-Dud" who would slide down the hill on his bottom. My mom had four brothers and one sister. They didn't spend a lot of time with Grandpa Dundee (mom's dad) growing up. He and my grandmother divorced, and he wasn't around very much. There were a lot of things about that time I'd rather not share, but it wasn't a pleasant parting. Mom made peace with her dad, though and they remained close. So close, in fact that he was someone she leaned on a great deal during her battle with cancer.

When she lay in the hospice center battling for her life, Grandpa rarely left her side. We never left mom alone for the four weeks she lived at the hospice center. My stepdad was there most of the time, of course. And, although there were family members in and out daily, it was Grandpa, my little brother Sean and I that stayed there together a lot of the time. We would all sleep in the room with mom. One on a cot, one in the recliner, and Grandpa on the uncomfortable chair right beside her bed. We argued about what caused which war, who was the best boxer of all time, which Rocky movie was best. We shared memories. We laughed when Grandpa would get frazzled about something and couldn't get the words out right (that's happened since his stroke a couple years ago. Don't judge us for laughing...our family laughs about almost anything! It is a term of endearment...and we were laughing with him, not at him.) I read the bible, prayed, and sang to mom. We cried and laughed as we went through the box of pictures I brought to jog our memories. We ate our meals in the hospice cafeteria. We sat together in silence. We went through the motions together in exhaustion.

We didn't sleep, except for maybe a couple hours here and there for that entire month. I never knew it was possible to survive on so little sleep. When mom was awake and coherent, we soaked in every moment. And through it all, grandpa sat by her side. He was so loving and such a trooper. The day I collapsed exhausted and was a little out of my mind. (Apparently when you go so long without sleep, your body can break down and you react as if you are completely intoxicated.) I was crying and not making sense. They carried me out of there. As Grandpa drove me home to try and get some sleep, my brother kept trying to make me laugh.

There was so much about that time that I don't know if I can ever share. But walking through it with them bonded us in a special way. Maybe like it bonds soldiers who fight in a war beside each other. Those that were there know what it was like. And we were all grateful that we didn't walk that path alone.

So, whatever happened in the past between our crazy old Grandpa Dundee and our family, we will always remember the beautiful love he showed during those last days with our sweet mother.

Grandpa was just battling for his own life in the hospital recently. He woke up not able to walk. He crawled to the door and drove himself to the hospital. After frightening a nurse when he motioned to her to come to the car (it was the middle of the night.), someone finally brought him a wheelchair and got him into the hospital. Yes...most people would have just called the EMS. Grandpa Dundee is not most people. After being told, his chances were very grim. And if he walked again, he would have to recover in a nursing home, Grandpa said, (not so sweetly) that he would have none of it. He walked out of the hospital several days later. And he is currently at home, in his house in the country, refusing a nurse's care. Watching the squirrels slide down the pole (that he greased, so they couldn't steal the bird seed in the bird feeder!) And eating his six year old turkey jerky. Because he can.