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Grandpa and I /Guest Post from Erika Kind

I am so delighted that my friend Erika Kind agreed to do a guest post for me.  I have read and enjoyed hearing of the wonderful, warm relationship she had with her grandfather.  Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if we all had a person with whom we share unconditional love and the bond that is never broken?

Grandpa and I

My grandfather was born 1927 as the only child of his parents. As far as I know he had a happy childhood. But his good times ended before he was even 20 years old when he was conscripted for WW II. He often told us about the war, his struggles in captivity and starving till he was just skin and bones. My grandfather was Austrian.   After Hitler invaded Austria they had to fight for Germany.  At the end of the war when all the horrible facts were revealed to the general public, he was shocked to no end to learn what he had been forced to fight for. Due to infections and lack of food, he developed cirrhosis of the liver which eventually killed him. My grandfather was a policeman all his life,. He was living and working in Vienna. Here is a photo of him with his father. Grandpa and Father

My “Opapa”, as we called him, was a tall, handsome man. He was married twice. His first wife was my mom’s mother. They got divorced when my mother (also an only child) was 11. When I was born, I was his pride and joy. I am sure that we are true soul mates. We had this certain connection. He was a young grandpa at the age of 43. When I was about 5 months old my parents moved with me to another part of the country about 600 km away from Vienna. Afterwards, I only saw my grandfather when he came for vacation for two weeks a year or when we went to Vienna for 3 weeks during the summer break. Grandfather Handsome That’s me and grandpa. Grandpa and Baby Erika My grandfather did everything for me. He always knew how to cheer me up when I was mad or sad. I loved the way of making me laugh, imitating voices and roles of popular comedians. He loved music. We always sang as we walked through the woods. He also kept me entertained imitating instruments like drums and trumpets. He built a huge model railroad layout for me, though it took him years since he could only work on it during his two week vacation with us. Grandpa knew everything about the Austrian history, really EVERYTHING! Whenever we walked around Vienna, went to a museum, or visited a castle or burg, he was like a historic almanac. Of course he not only knew about the historic persons and how everybody was related, but all the data of all happenings. Naturally, I did not appreciate it a bit. As a child or teenager, I did not listen, finding it boring.  Only days after he had died, a question about history came up. I reflexively thought I could ask Opapa… and started crying the next moment. During my teenage times I pulled back and didn’t talk a lot. I was in a lot of pain and didn’t let anybody in, not even my grandfather. I know that I was not nice at times and even mean. Grandfather never ever said one single word. He never acted hurt or annoyed. Never! I guess he was the only person in my whole life who never made me feel guilty. He just let me be. Five days before he died he called my mother. I was planning a visit a week later and he wanted to catch up with data. He wasn’t well at that moment and I am pretty sure he knew what was coming. When he called I was waiting for my sister to get ready for our Volleyball practice. We were already late. I did not take the call and just told my mom what to tell him. In the end I could have taken the call because they ended it before I left.  I missed my last opportunity to hear his voice. It took me many years to forgive myself for missing this chance. My grandfather died in 1990 at the age of 62.  In my mind, I still see his smiling face and  his curly grey hair going weird in the wind.  I still see the way he was dressed, the way he walked and moved and hear his special laughter.   Most of all I still feel his loving spirit!Grandpa         Erika for post

Goodbye, Randy

A dear friend died this weekend.  He’d suffered for years, rarely complaining.  He was the best father I’ve ever known, even doing little girl hairdos with matching bows to socks and dresses.   His cardiac illness was first diagnosed twenty-three years ago, when his girls were tiny.  Thankfully, he recovered some cardiac function, enabling him to guide his daughters into warm, lovely adults.  Though it has to break their hearts to lose him, what a blessing it is his family had that twenty-three years.  The girls knew a great father instead of always hearing what a wonderful father he would have been.

What a blessing to be whole again after so many years of pain and struggle.  We’ll miss you, Randy.  Our tears are only for ourselves.

Loving My Babies

Kate and JohnOn the subject of preference among children, I loved both my children best. Enjoying a loving moment with one, I’d think, “I could never love another child this much!” Conversely, when I was with the other, I’d have the same thought. I confess, I didn’t always treat them the same. One was more wayward, pushing as far as they dared, knowing I couldn’t commit murder, as attractive as it might seem at the moment. Most of the time, the other child was empathetic, well-behaved, a total joy, unless they weren’t, which also certainly happened on memorable occasions. Sometimes the needs of one overshadowed the other, challenging us to the maximum of our feeble parenting skills.

Often either, one of them would cuddle up to me, asking, “Who do you love more, me or ……….? I usually delighted them by saying, “Well, you can never tell, but right now, I love you more.” They found my other answer equally delightful. “You’re so silly! You know I don’t like either of you!” Then they’d dissolve into a fits of giggles as I tickled them. They loved either answer, secure, knowing I loved them, no matter what.

Whoo? Whoo? Joke

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After prayer meeting two lonely spinster ladies stopped in a grove to pray as they walked home.  One of them led off. “Please God, if it’s not too much to ask, could you send us husbands?  We’ve always been virtuous, Godly women.  We’d both make good wives for some lucky men.” Continue reading →

Stories for Isaac

Grandmother and child 2

The best part of family is the coziness and love between generations. When I visit my little guy, I love snuggling and telling him stories of his choosing. We get comfortable and turn the lights low. As I tuck in him in his quilt, he asks “Gwamma, tell me a story.” Continue reading →

Letter to a Patient from a Nurse:

Dear Patient,

You probably don’t remember me,but I was your nurse.  I took care of you when you had your baby, took care of your sick child, comforted you when you were in pain.  I worked extra shifts on holidays and weekends because you needed me.  I rejoiced when you got better.  Cried with you when you needed a friend and tried to help you find the answers.  I sang and talked to you when you seemed unresponsive because I knew you were in there.  I brought Easter baskets for your children so they wouldn’t be disappointed when they came to see you on Easter.  I hugged you and your family.  I talked to you about things outside the hospital to give you something else to think about, trying to bring you a story that would interest you everyday, unless you just needed me to be quiet with you.  I was there for your miracle and to hold your hand when you died talking to Mama.  I never corrected you, knowing it was her hand you were holding.

Nursing was my job, but taking care of you was my privilege.  Thank you for letting me be a part of your life.

 

Stay.

Reblog from Kelly Barnhill. Be thinking of her today. Nutsrok

kellybarnhill's avatarKelly Barnhill

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My dog is bathed and dried and wrapped up and next to the heating vent. I got her to eat a little this morning. She drank some watered-down unsalted beef broth (organic, because she is worth it), and it felt like a miracle. I’m sitting next to her, my computer on my lap, pretending to write my book, but really I’m just looking at my dog. Keeping close.

“Stay,” I say.

She thumps her tail.

“Stay,” I say again. She closes her eyes and groans she pushes her nose against my leg with a sigh.

When we live with dogs, we have a set of words that our animals are trained to obey on cue. We say sit, and they sit. But that isn’t always what we mean. When Harper was young – a gnarly, snarly, scruffy little street dog, narrowly escaping Death By Dogcatcher – I would say “Sit”…

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Squeaky and His Pet Squirrel Neighbor(Smarty Kitty Update)

Squeaky in window with squirrelSqueaky was a rescue kitty who lived with us about three years, more or less.  I considered him a delight.  Bud, not so much.  They had dominance issues they never completely worked out, but Squeaky gave it his best shot, taking swats at Bud till the last.  Here you see Squeaky on his sunning shelf in the window.  I put a bird feeder right outside to keep it interesting.  Of course, the squirrel had to get in the act.  They had a fine time together, playing through the window.  Buzzy, my American Esky dog was always jealous of the quality time Squeaky spent on his perch in the window, backing up far enough to see them playing together, alternately crying and bringing toys to attempt to lure Squeaky away.  Naturally, Squeaky ignored all that.    Sadly, we recently lost Squeaky to kidney failure.

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The Special Bond Between Grandchildren and Grandparents

I miss my Grandma.  She was perfect, mostly because she acted like she didn’t notice my  bad behavior, knowing my mom take care of it.  I was sure she loved me best of all her grandchildren, unaware all the grand kids felt hat way.  She made the best teacakes, told the best stories, and always smelled of Johnson’s Baby Powder.  Patiently, she’d let me brush her waist-length gray hair, and attempt to twist into a heavy bun, never complaining that I pulled, before finally turning it into a perfect bun and securing it with only one heavy bone pin herself with a quick flip of her wrist, once I gave it up for hopeless.

Every afternoon after lunch and her “stories” Grandma hung her cotton print housedress on a line stretched across a corner of her bedroom, let her hair down, slipped off her shoes and knee-high stockings, put her gold-rimmed spectacles carefully on the bedside table, and lie down for a nap.  Continue reading →