AGING | GRIEF | LOSS
Grandpa’s Hands Are Tired Now but What a Life They’ve Lived
I’ve been thinking about my grandpa’s hands a lot lately. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because someone told me I should take a picture of his hands, or maybe it’s because I’m trying to keep every detail of him stored in my memory. I don’t want to forget after he’s gone.
An image of Grandpa’s hands plays like a clip from an old-time movie in my mind.
This was back when Grandpa’s hands were strong and sure. I see his steady hands carefully loading his carousel with slides so he can entertain my grandma and me with a slideshow in the basement.
Grandpa’s wearing his thick cream-colored sweater with brown buttons, blue jeans, and house slippers. His demeanor and soft-spoken voice are a comfort to me.
We sit on pillows on the floor and watch the brilliant images on the screen that Grandpa has on a stand. I love to see the world through Grandpa’s eyes, of the far-away places he’s been.
Time changes everything
Last week I visited Grandpa, who is now 99, in the hospital. He sat dozing in a chair with his hands, fingers entwined, resting in his lap. I sat quietly and looked at his hands while he slept and I thought of all of the things he’s done with them in his life.
These are the hands that his mother held when he was a young boy. She adored her son and he loved her immensely. I can understand why. Great-grandma Violet was the sweetest woman I’d ever met. When Dad took me to visit, I sat on her lap and we colored in the Winnie the Pooh coloring book. She gave me candy and Popsicles too, so what’s not to like?
Grandpa grew up poor. His parents had six children to feed and his dad worked in the coal mines to provide for them.
One day a carnival came to town. It was an exciting event in a small town in the 1930s. Grandpa said he was happy just to be able to go, although he knew a ride was out of the question. This year though he went to the carnival alone with his mother and she gave him a nickel she’d been saving so he could go on a ride. It was a special day.
These are the hands Grandpa used to hoist himself up to take another ride, although this one didn’t cost a penny. He and his brothers went to the railroad yard and sneaked onto a train car. They’d sit inside the car with the door open, legs dangling down, viewing the countryside and watching the sunset before hopping off in another town. Then, they’d hop on another train car to ride back home.
These are the hands that operated an X-ray machine during World War II when Grandpa served with a medic unit in the Army. He landed on the beach at Normandy six days after the invasion and saw the crosses there for those who landed before him.
While in Europe, Grandpa’s love of travel and photography took root.
These are the hands that designed tools at Caterpillar where he worked for several decades before he retired. This is the place where he met the love of his life, my grandma, a Dutch woman who moved to America after the war.
These are the hands that took my grandma’s hand in his to dance on their first date. They’d fall in love and get married and go dancing often. Grandpa’s two children from a previous marriage and Grandma’s child from a previous marriage would unite to form a family. Their marriage would last for 63 years and Grandpa would take care of her until the very end.
These are the hands that would pursue so many passions in life. They’d hold a camera frequently to document travels and to take brilliant photos of German villages, Irish hillsides, African deserts, camels in Nepal, mountains in Switzerland, and caves in Carlsbad. They’d also take photos of the many friends and family, the people Grandpa loved and cherished.
These are the hands that held golf clubs and bowling balls to pursue two athletic hobbies with vigor. Grandpa took a trip with his buddies every year to golf in Biloxi, Mississippi, a tradition that lasted for decades.
Grandpa’s friend Jed recently visited him in the nursing home and they relived the glory days of those golfing trips. Jed said Grandpa invited him to join the group. That’s just like Grandpa, a nice, gentle human being who liked to include everyone.
At the age of 90, Grandpa was still on a bowling league and still golfed with friends. When my cousin and I visited Grandpa at the bowling alley for his 90th birthday, everyone told us how much they respected and liked him. They marveled at his ability and health and the fact that he was still bowling.
“He’s the oldest guy on our team,” they said.
Grandpa replied, “I’m the oldest guy in the building!”
Everyone laughed.
These are the hands that reached out to touch my arm on one of my recent visits with my grandpa at the nursing home.
As I prepared to leave, I stood at his bedside and he touched my arm, which was unusual. Grandpa always has been shy about expressing affection.
I hesitated at his bedside and he said, “I love you.” I told him I loved him too.
He said, “Thanks for all the visits.”
“Of course, Grandpa. You’re a very important person in my life,” I told him.
I stayed a little longer and reminisced about the good times we’d had together. Grandpa smiled.
For 55 years, we’ve maintained a close relationship.
I was their first granddaughter and my grandparents took me under their wings like their own daughter. They loved spending time with me and the feeling was mutual.
Throughout the years they’ve recounted the stories of taking me to the zoo as a child when I lost a shoe and fell asleep in the backseat of their car with my arms wrapped around a large red balloon. They told the story about how I grew impatient as a toddler when Grandpa stopped to take photos. I told Grandma, “Come on, let’s go. He’ll find us.”
In high school, we traveled to Europe together several times.
As soon as I could drive, I traveled to their home every Thursday night for dinner and conversation, a tradition we kept up for many years. I spent the night on weekends too. I loved spending time with them.
I’ve been so fortunate to have this special relationship with my grandparents, and as I sit and look at my grandpa sleeping in his chair with his hands in his lap, I know he’s tired and that soon I won’t be able to see Grandpa’s hands anymore.
These are the hands that wrote a note to put with his will at his attorney’s office. The note states to leave all of his photographs, slides, and camera equipment to his granddaughter.
This gift is Grandpa’s legacy and he is handing it down to me.