I had an irrational fear on Sunday. I was driving by my Grampy's assisted living on the way home and thought, what if something happened to him and I had the opportunity to say hello, but didn't. Nothing in his health hints that something bad is going to occur, except of course he is almost 86. But I just fell into an irrational pit of blahness. So I decided to stop. It had been a while so I texted my mom to confirm where I would find him in the building. His room would be a great start, but it was close to dinner and he likes to hang with the other folks.
Before my mom could respond, there he was. The building has two sets of doors you have to proceed through before reaching the lobby. After you enter the first set of doors there are two benches aligning the two walls. Can you guess where my Grampy was?
"That's my granddaughter," he said in shock to his friend Bill, who was sitting across on the other bench. Bill wore a classic light grey Merrimac College crew neck and light wash Cosco looking jeans. The kind of jeans trending today as "hip mom jeans." I told him I liked his outfit.
"Hannah, what are you doing here? She just came from India you know?" I proceeded to get out of the frigid doorway and scooted in close to him. "I was driving by and thought I'd come say hello." I didn't tell him about the irrational fear, not the best idea to bring that up to an old man.
We laughed and caught up, sometimes forgetting Bill was there until Bill would say something so blunt and honest. I think meant to be dry humor. I never confirmed. My favorite was when he said,
"My grandson plays the tuba. I asked him if there are any lefty players and if there are, do they make lefty tubas? Then I asked your grandfather what he thought today and this was our highlight conversation of the day."
Then we all laughed.
I forgot about the irrational thoughts I first had about 5 minutes into our visit. I honestly don't like assisted living facilities, so most of my fears stay with me when I'm in the building. But since I never made it through the other doors they had no chance at controlling my thoughts. I was in the present soaking up all the stories these two 85-year-olds told. What a life. Sitting in doorways, greeting everyone coming in and out, eating fresh meals three times a day. I left recognizing how irrational that irrational thought was. My Grampy is okay. He's content. He is surrounded by great care and characters- Bill.
I hope to find contentment like them. I hope to grow in being in the moment. And I hope to find as much joy and life discovery in discussing the possibility of wondering if there is such a thing as left-handed tubas.
Until next time...
P.S. Did you think "this guy" was gunna be a romantic story? Comment your response below.