Skip to main content

The one about Jody and Grandpa

This month, my Grandpa Corso turned 95 and Jody turned 92. Quick side note: when my sister and I were born, Jody felt she was too young to be a grandmother (at age 53) and wanted us to call her by her first name-- hence 'Jody and Grandpa.' Upon the arrival of more grandchildren, she evidently felt it was time and became known as 'Grams' to the rest of the grandkids. But to me--- she's my Jody.

November took a turn for our family as we needed to get additional assistance for Grandpa—he and Jody had been living in their own home doing just fine, thriving in their 90’s. But there comes a point. And we reached that point. It was a bit of a shakeup for us as it's hard to come to grips with change like this-- especially when the memory of one is gone and no longer knows you as a wife, son, grandchild.

Initially, Jody felt a sense of relief-- as the woman had needed a break. But one week in, she realized more than the break, she needed him. She needed the comfort and presence of the man who had been with her for more than 60 years.

Grandpa is now in full time care and Jody drives over to visit as often as she can. This photo portrays how they take their nap now each day. Jody drives over around 10:30am, feeds him lunch, then wheels him into a sitting room where they sit side by side, hand in hand, and take their afternoon nap.
 
I’ll be honest, I’ve not seen this side of them before. The shows of affection haven’t always been evident, but in this stage of life, seeing them cling to each other has been so sweet for me to witness.

They are a big reason I chose the Carolinas. Knowing they are in the last few years of their life made me want to lean in and be close. Celebrating their lives and their commitment to each other. Happy Birthday to Jody and Grandpa!









Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ten. Years.

Grew up in a small town - And when the rain would fall down - I'd just stare out my window - Dreaming of what could be - And if I'd end up happy - I would pray Trying hard to reach out - But when I tried to speak out - Felt like no one could hear me - Wanted to belong here - But something felt so wrong here - So I prayed I could break away I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly - I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky - I'll make a wish - Take a chance - Make a change - And breakaway - Out of the darkness and into the sun - But I won't forget all the ones that I love - I'll take a risk - Take a chance - Make a change - And breakaway ( Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway ) 10 years ago, this month, I graduated from Prairiland High School. (And yes, I spelled that right- according to our school, anyways.) At times I can't really wrap my mind around that particular thought...

Saturday Morning

I have a play list on my iPod titled "Saturday Morning Cleaning." When my sisters and I were growing up, Saturday morning was spent cleaning. No questions asked. Bottom line. Purple suit and all. Oh wait. You don't know about the purple suit. I'll explain further down. We'd get to sleep in until mom and dad deemed enough, at which point they would turn on the stereo system and play praise and worship music and come wake us up. Mom or dad would have cooked us a breakfast of either pancakes, eggs, waffles, bacon, or breakfast tacos (a treat, considering M-F was normally cereal, oatmeal, etc) and on the table would be "The List" Sometimes we'd get "The List" before breakfast and sometimes after. Because, really....who wants to ruin a perfectly good breakfast with "The List." (I have to interject, even as I'm writing this...I'm just remembering how incredible my childhood was. Seriously. I had the best childhood a ...

The one where I bought a house (in 2021)

A friend recently sent a note and said "I need you to revive your Mary Poppins blog." It's been a while, hasn't it? Hello, old friend. It's me. Minda. Let's back track a bit, shall we? Most of you know I grew up in Texas. Texas was my home for 27 years before I left and made a home in Florida. And y’all know what happened there. 🔥  (no, really. For those who don’t know, my place burned down) Then I made my way to DC where I made a home for 5 years. Michigan came next. Michigan was the job I needed and wanted but the place I didn’t want to be. But did I make it work? You betcha. I made a home there, found community, and dove in. I gave it 110%. Then a pandemic hit. When you’re in a place that doesn’t really feel like home, you start to crave ‘home.’ But where was home for me? I know the feeling of home, but I didn’t know the location of home. I’d begun to convince myself that no place would ever be home this side of heaven. Maybe that’s just the way it is. I p...