A pleasant visit

For the first time since my aging grandfather's recent fall, I was able to visit both he and my nana in their new senior-living apartment.  The aforementioned fall made it necessary for the two of them, my dad's folks, to move from their two-story suburban home, with a very steep driveway, to a more suitable (safe) environment.  Their new place is a one-bedroom apartment, with a small porch on the third floor within a larger community.

Over the past several years there has been much talk, instigated mostly out of my dad's concern for my grandparents, about a move to a safer location.  These conversations met resistance and fear.  It was our hope that a move could be done to avoid such a fall. However, this was not the case.  And the move became a must, rather than a choice, sadly.  Over the weeks following his fall, together with my nana, the two had to find a new place to call home.  My grandfather would probably never go back to his old house, as his body would not handle the strain of stairs.  I was saddened, but understanding of the new reality.

For all of my 28 years, I have known four grandparents, a rarity today. The gift of my grandparents is not lost on me.  I maintain contact with both sides.  My mom's parents, in Dallas, have adapted to technology, so an email and even facebook message keeps us easily informed.  On the other side,  answering machines still perplex my dad's folks.  The running joke has been whether Nana has checked her email recently, or more time relevant, tweeted?  But distance has never kept us too far apart.

Luckily for me though, my dad's parents live in St. Louis, an easy drive from KC.  I find myself visiting several times a year, especially around holidays.  A trip to Nana and Grandpa's is customary.  Before the move, my grandparents lived in their house for as long as I remember.  Prior to yesterday, it was the only home I ever associated them with.  Their old house is full of memories of birthday parties to sleepovers to root beer floats.  

While their new place is drastically different from their old house, I was pleased by what I thought was a comfortable and appropriate living unit.  It does not hold the sentimental value of their old place, but what could?  At present, my concern is for their comfort and life quality.  From what I understand the adjustment has been a tough one.  I'm not surprised.  Adjustment is not easy for anyone, much less a couple of octogenarians.

Several in my family went with me to the apartment, including my wife and boys.  It is important that my boys develop from a young age an appreciation for family.  My nana seemed to gain energy from our younger boy and by the time we were ready to leave our two-year-old was hugging her, which made me smile.  Grandpa seemed as content as ever watching the happenings from his chair, perched atop the action.  

Seeing their new place, furnished by much of their old furniture, was an adjustment for me, too.  In closing, as I'm sure I could go on, the trip was a nice one and reminded me of a two things.  One, aging is inevitable, a side-effect of a life-well lived.  And second, those memories from their old house are tied not to its physical structure, but rather to the two of them.