Courage Beyond Measure

I thought I seen all kinds of courage.  Being married to a police detective, I try to appreciate it in as many forms as possible. 

This weekend I was privileged to see it in one more form.  My family caring for my grandfather. 

He's home again after two months.  We are all very excited, of course.  He's worked very hard.  My aunts and uncles have worked tirelessly as well.  Hoping against hope that his tired old body would rally against this wretched infection.  Hoping against hope that his spirit would rally against the idea that he would really rather just go be with my grandmother in heaven.

My uncles are small town gruff.  They possess a realism that city boys never do, never want to.  But give them a family member to care for and there is no one gentler, more loving.  And every one of their friends is the same.  And they do the same for friends' family.  Another thing city boys don't do. 

Watching them with my grandfather, I was witnessing great courage.  What courage it takes to nurse your hero back to health.  The person who was larger than life not just to you, but to an entire town is right now like a helpless kitten.  And you cannot be the helpless kitten you once were.  You must be the one with the answers.  You must make the decisions.  One of you must take the family mantle of responsibility.  Which will it be?  The oldest because it seems fitting?  The more outspoken because you always seem to know what to say?  The daughters are willing to help but don't live in town, so they can only be here a few days a week. 

It is up to the sons and their wives.  Who will it be? 

And what of the daughters?  Who cannot be there all the time and would be if they had not settled a little further away.  What of their courage?  The daddy who danced with them and taught them to drive.  Now they are driving him through the halls of his home with his walker and at particularly weak times, in his wheelchair. 

And what of the grandchildren?  Always in awe of this man who told them they were "good for nothing" and understood what he meant was they meant the world to him.  Afraid for him to stay and afraid for him to go.

And what of the great-grandchildren?  Will he be able to hang in there with us so they can continue to form their memories of him?  They will never remember him the way we do.  Chances are very good my children (if I have that privilege) will never remember him at all. 

And what of my grandmother?  I think she would want him to stay here and keep fighting.  She would want him with us.  She's happy and well-taken care of. But he's very lonely in that house without her.

The courage it takes each family member every day astounds me.  I've known for a very long time how lucky I am to be a part of this family, but this weekend, I was blown away by the love. 

Be grateful for the ones who love you and who you love.  It's a courage like nothing else.  That's all I can say.