"D" Day

Today was "D" Day. The day no one wants to be a part of, the day no one wants to remember. A day no one wanted to be the boss. I never thought I'd see the day when my family members slunk docilely into the corners. But remarkably, when the time came to check Opa into a rest home, there wasn’t a domineering, controlling personality to be found. You could have put a child to bed by the sound of their voices. By the meekness in their tones.

Which is basically what it feels like we did today. Put a child to bed. Except there was more resignation; a giving up of hope. And, I think what ripped into everyone's soul was that, in a sense, they were giving up on themselves. His wife, his three children especially, saw what their own fate might be and were mortally terrified. They had to accept that this inevitable Beast, this "giving up", would one day come for them.

We like to think that we can fix anything. Using superglue, saline implants, or new slate tiles. Having heart and hair transplants. It's so human and safe and natural to solve problems...to fix and repair and reconstruct. To build. That's what my grandfather did for a living. He built, with plywood and nails and hammers, and his own two hands, at first. Then later, with shoddy wood and rations in his pockets; with the enemy firing and an infantry behind him. And still later, with a contractor and a crew and an entire company behind him. He was a man who created. A man who moved forward. A man who focused on what could be done, constantly casting aside what couldn't.

He was the same way with us kids. I thought he was a harsh disciplinarian, but now I think it was more that he was hopeful. He was an optimist who believed we could be changed; that we could grow and learn. He loved us and wanted us to thrive; being well-trained and successful because of it. Heavy-handed discipline was necessary because change isn’t easy. He knew that well. Even when we hated him for it, he made us internalize that lesson. A motto etched into our hearts.

I wish he could be with us the way he used to. I know he would tell us we did the right thing today...that it was most important to take care of Nona, and that we should put him out to pasture if he'd become old and feeble. But just the same, I wish I could have heard it from his mouth.