all is love...

we've always said that his life should be a screenplay. and not just recently, because things have gotten especially complicated... but always. the man has been living for so long. so. long. he's 93. i've mentioned him once or twice before. big red's dad, my grandpa jim, and he's rapidly declining. though, if you asked him, he'd tell you not fast enough.

i'll save all the really sad and clinical stuff for another day. for now, i'll tell you the story-worthy stories (as they say on the moth). which, in actuality, may be just as sad. this one... not my experience, as told to me by big red herself... there may be a few dramatic liberties taken... but, the gist will be there. promise.

i will try not to burden you

i can hold these inside.

i will hold my breath 

until all these shivers subside,

just look in my eyes.

when my mom arrived at le chateau bleu in burbank last wednesday, she took the elevator up to his floor. when the elevator arrived, he was standing there, in the 6th floor foyer, as though he knew she was on her way up. but he didn't. i have seen things that you will never see. leave it to memory me. he was just standing there, serendipitously, waiting for the elevator to arrive... ski cap on his head, thermal long john's tucked into his dress shoes and rolled over at the waist several times, walker in hand.

he told my mom he was on his way to check out of this shit hotel (symbolic, no?). but, he didn't have any money, so he was planning on selling his walker for $5. that way, he'd have cab fare to get to her house. for, that's where he'd rather be. i will try not to worry you.

it's 2011. a cab ride from burbank to long beach might be a touch over $5. and le bleu chateau is not a hotel, it's an assisted living facility. (truly, it's an amazing facility, and i am so thankful they are taking care of my last living grand-père. check them out. though, i can't without crying... so sappy).

i want you to remember

i need something to fly 

over my grave again

i need something to breathe.

thank the goddesses that my mom had a carl's junior milkshake with her. so, she scooped up grandpa jim and his walker and took him to the lobby to check out. on their way down, they ran into a few of his friends. (the ladies of le bleu chateau have taken a particular liking to old jimmy, obvi). so, the gals and one volunteer stopped to chat with him, which only confused him even more. he ended up asking the volunteer if he could stay at the hotel just one more night. her response? of course, jimmy. you can stay as long as you'd like.

big red is such a champion. she visitis him so often. she tells me these stories. weekly, if not more. and if we didn't know him so well, know how vibrant and opinionated and stubborn and adventurous and independent this man was in his cognizant life, there would be some comedy to all of this. all of this... these people. the woman who speaks only in noises and whistles... like an elderly version of björk. but, this shit is real. and most days, jimmy doesn't know where he is. heart. breaking. but, this is his path right now. and in our cyclical lives, this is his progression. this cruel disease is his progression.

until his stale date finally comes (that's how he puts it), we'll just keep on loving. i will try not to breathe, this decision is mine. i have lived a full life, and these are the eyes that i want you to remember. that's the easy job. my job. big red... christ. the woman is remarkable.

want to learn more about alzheimer's... visit the alzheimer's association. consider making a pledge or volunteering your time.

lyrics by the most brilliant and amazing r.e.m. try not to breathe from automatic for the people. pictures of grandpa jim from our family album. top to bottom: headshot, war clerk, passport photos.