So, Friday evening, during happy hour, I receive a call from my mother that my grandpa has had a stroke and is running a fever and is in the hospital. That’s a good way to:
a) sober up
b) ruin a weekend (and I know that sound selfish)
I couldn’t sleep at all Friday night, I was up praying, begging God to let my Grandfather recover, mostly for my Grandma’s sake. They’ve been together for more than fifty years, my grandpa proposed to her THE DAY AFTER THEY MET. I know she’d be lost without him.
So Saturday afternoon, Mom calls and says, he is indeed on the upswing, but the stroke has effected some of his memory. He knows that Syracuse and Miami are playing football that day, but calls my Grandmother Adeline “Shirley Shit” when asked what her first name is. (By the way, I laughed at that, God forgive me I laughed)
So he came home from the hospital this morning! It’s going to be a pretty happy Thanksgiving afterall, and I won’t hear any dissention, I was thanking and praising God that my prayers were answered.
So I called him before work to say hello and talk about the Bears game and at the end of the conversation he said “We’ll see you Wednesday then Steverino!” And I said OK.
Changing my name is a small price to pay to have Grandpa back!
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