I lost my grandfather to alzheimers Nov 6th 1994, the day after Ronald Reagan announced he had it. I was always close to both sets of grandparents but PaPa was the first (and only so far) that I lost.
He was the baby of 15 children and the grandson of a full blooded cherokee indian. He was born and raised in Cowpens SC, the same place I was born. My father worked for the pipeline so we moved around A LOT, 18 times before I was 8 and we finally setteled outside Atlanta. Papa always called me his (insert name of the city I lived at the time) hootnanny. After he got out of the mills he worked for a trucking company and he and my memaw lived part of the time in Georgia and part in the home they'd always had in Cowpens. Summers were when he was in south GA. I would spend two months of the summer with him, working in the garden, going fishing and hanging out with him.
One of his favorite pranks was to convince me there were different kinds of trees in the woods where they lived. The two that stand out in my mind were the juicy fruit tree and the money tree. He had an old dune buggy that he let us grandkids drive to look for them...on a few occasions we would find a little sappling tree with a one or five dollar bill on it, or a few packs of gum....but we never found the "grandaddy" of the trees
One of his jobs was counting out the pay for the workers on friday nites, they were always paid in cash. Each friday I would sit on his lap and lay the money in piles, there was ALWAYS an extra 5 dollar bill left over which was MY pay for helping.
Easter always brought easter egg hunts with prize eggs....real silver dollars....oh how we grandkids would fight over those.
Papa is the one that fixed it so that I could never in my life drink coffee that wasnt FULL of milk and sugar. He was also the one that would bet me 50 dollars that I couldnt be quiet for 1 whole minute.....starting since before Im old enuff to remember.
After I graduated highschool I moved up to SC (and actually lived with my other grandparents, Papa's house didnt have room for me) but I was over there as much as I could be since they were only 7 miles away. This was a bad time in my life, running with the wrong crowd, getting into cocaine, partying too much etc. But in the year I was there I never went to see him drugged up....something in my head told me that I could not disrespect him that way.
I finally moved back to georgia and my parents to get myself straightened out. The day I left he told me that he knew I was "troubled" but he had faith I could turn myself around.
A few years later he started the downward spiral, it took 18 months for him to pass quietly away. I had my daughter after his memory had really started to go, and when I'd take her to visit he always thought she was me. They called me to tell me he was going to the hospital for the "last" time the day that Susan Smith confessed to drowning her two children. You have to understand I'd been in knots over that situation because Union SC is right next to Cowpens and I had family there as well. My mother told me my father was already up there so at 10 o'clock that nite I got in my car, telling my husband that I wouldnt be home until it was "over".
I arrived at the hospital around midnite and my dad was stretched out asleep but woke up as soon as I opened the door. He wasked me what I was doing and I told him momma had told me he didnt have anything to read so I'd brought him an Atlanta newspaper. I didnt leave the hospital until sunday afternoon, when the family forced me to go. I spent all that time singing his favorite hymns, reading the bible to him, "remembering" all our good times growing up, sometimes he would squeeze my hand (he was never concious the whole time I was there). I was insane with no sleep and they made me leave to get a nap and wouldnt let me spend the nite. They called me around 11 to tell me he was gone. I was so devestated, I wanted to be there so badly when he finally died....but my grandmother must have known, she hadnt let anyone stay that nite with her, she wanted that nite alone.
His death has been the only one in my life that has "affected" me. I couldnt stop crying and I passed out at the funeral, everyone said it was because I hadnt eaten in days, but I hurt SO badly I couldnt stand it.
After the funeral we all went back to their house for the after funeral dinner and my grandmother called me up to her room. In a moment of clarity my grandfather had given her an envelope to give to me after he died, but she had no idea what it was.
It was a 50 dollar bill with a note that said.....You never managed to get this while you were a child, now I give this to you in the hope that you'll ALWAYS still remember to talk to me when Im gone. If its at all possible I will watch over you way I always have and I am proud of the woman you've become. You were never a disappointment to me. and it was signed, your self proclaimed guardian angel, PaPa
I still have that 50 dollars.
I dream sometimes he's sitting on my bed talking to me and I used to wake up feeling lonley.....that changed after a few years to feeling really loved.