The In Between

My paternal grandfather and I were very close. Being raised on a third-generation family farm meant that even after he “retired”, Grandpa came to the farm almost daily to work with my dad. I spent hours with him riding in the tractor cab and caring for animals. He was kind, loving, and full of a laughter that made his blue eyes sparkle. He was one of my very favorite people.

His wife, my dear grandmother, was plagued with many years of poor health before her death. She suffered a series of heart attacks and eventually a stroke. Each illness took more of her strength and as heartbroken as he was to watch her deteriorate, my grandpa assumed the responsibility of caregiver naturally and beautifully.

After her stroke, he could no longer care for her at home, so she spent the last months of her life in an assisted care facility. Every day, rain, shine, or snow, my grandfather made the 25-minute trip to spend time with his bride. I often got to ride along. I loved seeing my grandma, but just as much, I loved the special one-on-one time with grandpa. After visiting grandma, we would usually stop at a restaurant.  Eating out was not as common then as it is today, and I always felt so special when he would open my doors, help me with my chair, listen intently as I talked, and pay for my meal. He was a true gentleman and I will always hold dear those sweet times.

As an adult, I look back on all those hours I spent with my grandfather just as dearly. However, now, I can see more clearly the powerful lessons I learned by watching his humble example of love and servant leadership. When life and marriage are hard, you show up. Every day, without fail, you show up. You love. You care. You cherish your bride. My grandfather’s devotion to grandma in her last months of life was beautiful in a way that I do not know how to capture in words. The person he married was largely gone, but he continued to love her, cherish her, and honor her until her last day. And though I did not realize it at the time, that devotion spoke volumes to my heart and in so many ways, defined the character traits that I would want in a husband.

When I was fresh out of college and just getting my start in the working world, my grandfather’s health began to decline. I made many trips back and forth from Minneapolis to his hospital bed in La Crosse, WI. During one of those visits, he got quite serious. He looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Are you seeing anyone special?” A knot formed in my stomach as I told him I was not. I looked down as the unspoken words that hung in the air became deafening. He was nearing the end of his life. He would not meet the man that I would marry. We would not share a dance at my wedding (and oh how he loved to dance). He would not meet my children.

My heart ached to think of a future without this dear man that had been such a huge part of my life. I wanted to lay down and weep on the hospital room floor.  His response, however, was different. With his face resolved, I watched as he made peace with missing all those future moments. He recaptured my gaze and said kindly, but firmly, “I never worried about you. I know you will make a good choice.” That was the last we spoke on the matter. He died peacefully a few weeks later, but those words stayed with me and were such a sweet gift. It brought me peace and comfort to know how deeply he believed in me and my ability to build a beautiful life. A life like he and grandma had built.

My mom has always said that my hands look like my grandmother’s. I love this comparison. Like me, she was a gardener. She loved flowers and basically all things that required digging in the dirt. I think of her often when I catch a glimpse of my hands planting annuals or trimming my perennials, but until my mastectomy in 2016, I had never made the comparison elsewhere.

A double mastectomy with reconstruction is no small surgery.  During my hospital stay, I was heavily sedated and medicated so I could handle the pain, but there are moments that I vividly remember. One is waking up, looking down, and being startled to see my grandmother’s hands. I had held that frail hand with an IV taped to it laying against the backdrop of a white hospital blanket so many times that it was easy to recognize. For a moment I was confused, but eventually, my head cleared enough to realize that this hand laying on my hospital bed was actually mine, not quite as frail or as old, but so similar nonetheless with that IV running into it, secured tightly with tape.

Moments later, my husband Mark walked in and just like my grandfather’s hand would take grandma’s, my wonderful husband took mine. As I looked at my IV taped hand nestled in Mark’s, I smiled to myself and silently thought as I drifted back out of consciousness, “Oh Grandpa, here is my good choice. You would have loved him”.

I think for most of us, when we say our wedding vows, the idea of “in sickness and in health” feels a bit abstract. Maybe we will help our spouse through a nasty stomach flu or cold, but really, until you are “old” you do not expect to have to make good on that particular vow.  Unfortunately, there are those times when tragedy strikes. Your wife gets cancer in her 30’s and just like that your life is turned upside down. You must care for her in ways you could not even have fathomed just months before, but just like my grandfather, Mark assumed the role of caregiver naturally and beautifully. He showed up every day, even when it was hard (and oh my, was some of it hard). I hate that my illness put Mark and our family through what it did, but I also want to weep with gratitude when I think of the unspoken lessons that our children learned through Mark’s example of love and servant leadership.

Our sons will know that even when marriage gets excruciatingly hard (and it most likely will), that you still show up. You cherish your bride. You respect her and you love her until her last breath. And our daughter will know that she is worthy of this kind of love. The kind of love that my grandpa showed my grandma and the kind of love that Mark shows me. She will know that she is worthy of making the good choice to be deeply loved and respected by a good man.