in gratitude

On the afternoon of the day Gramps got his terminal diagnosis, I happened to stop by his house. I was there the previous afternoon for a visit, and as I was leaving, I asked if he needed anything or if there was anything I could do for him. As it turned out, there was: On his weekend shopping trip, he had accidentally purchased whole wheat bread instead of his preferred enriched white bread — a situation that needed to be rectified with haste. So that day, the day of his doctor's appointment, I showed up around 4:00 with a loaf of white Sunmaid.

My mom had gone to his appointment with him that morning, so I already knew the news wasn't good, but Gramps gave me a rundown of everything the doctor had said. In short, he concluded, the only thing left to decide was the exit strategy.

We sat there in silence for a minute, then Gramps said, "I don't have any regrets, or things I've left undone. I suppose I could have made more money, been more successful in business."

I replied, "I think you've done extremely well in business ... if that's how you want to measure your success."

Gramps didn't hesitate. In the quiet of his kitchen, he told me that he measured his success by two things: business and family. In the first, he said, there would always be room for improvement, but in the second, he gets an A+. He spoke at length about how proud he is of his kids, how happy he is that everyone is settled and seems to have found lives they can be happy living. He talked about his own parents, how he has outlived his dad by 18 years already, and how no one should outlive his mom (who was 102 when she died). He talked about his hope that once he's gone, his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren will keep on being as close as we all are, because the family he created is his finest accomplishment and his lasting legacy.

His voice was steady and his eyes were dry ... except when he told me the story of how his mom once threw a surprise party for his dad. All the people were gathered at the back of the house, and Grandpa Jeff came in the front and there was Grandma Ethel with her accordion. She started playing Happy Birthday, and the people started singing, and Grandpa got so overwhelmed that he started crying and couldn't stop. He had to hide in the bathroom until he got his composure back. And when he came out, Grandma reassured him, "I'll never throw you a surprise party again."

Gramps talked for almost an hour, and when he was done, he said, "I didn't know I was going to tell you all of that."

I didn't know he was going to tell me all that either, but for the rest of my life I will be grateful that he did, that we had that hour together, that I could be there for him when he needed someone to listen.

I owe so much to Gramps. Aside from the obvious, I mean. I owe him my career, my husband, my children, the life I have now — and all because of one conversation that he probably doesn't even remember.

The summer I graduated from college, I came back home to my parents' house while I tried to figure out what to do with my life. I had a job lined up in Plymouth, and an apartment to rent (conveniently, one of the apartments Gramps had above his liquor store) ... but I also had this idea that maybe living in the city was something I wanted to do. And one day, while I was giving Gramps a ride home from work, I asked him what he thought I should do. And what he said was this: "I can't tell you what's best for you. Nobody can. But I will tell you to look at my kids. They all have very good lives, but they're different. Look at the ones who stayed, look at their lives ... then look at the ones who have moved away, and look at their lives. And ask yourself: Which life is it you want to have right now?"

It wasn't long after that when I packed up my car and moved to Chicago. I stayed with Pam and Alison for a couple months, got a job at Borders, moved into an apartment with some friends, and made a life I loved. A life I found the courage to go out and get because of one question from Gramps. Without that, without spending my twenties in the city, I wouldn't have the job I have today, and I wouldn't have met Mike and built the life we have together.

It's been a tough summer as Gramps's health has declined. For the past few weeks, one of us (my mom, my aunts and uncles, the older cousins) has been by his side night and day. My own visits increased from once or twice weekly drop-ins before he got sick to stopping by every other day to staying a full day each week with him plus dropping by most other days to say hi and to see if the person with him needed coffee, a meal, a break, anything. I wish I could have done more, but I'm indescribably grateful for every single minute I could spend helping him. It will never even the balance between us, but my hope is that in a small way, I made things a little easier for him.

Michael Joseph Jeffirs, my beloved grandpa, died early yesterday morning. I am devastated for myself, for my mom, for the boys ... but through it all, I KNOW that we have all been privileged beyond measure to have had such a singular figure in our lives. Not a perfect man, but a fundamentally good one. A man with an A+ in business and in family. May we all live up to our role as his legacy.

introducing thunder

Of the two of us, I am definitely without a doubt most certainly more impulsive than Mike is. But even I'm not impulsive enough to just go and adopt another dog out of the blue, right? Right?

Well, sort of.

We've been talking about getting a second dog for a while, but we wanted to wait until our fence was in (though at this point, I'm not sure when that will happen with all the delays) and things settled down around here a little. But last weekend, I saw some pictures of a dog at the humane society who looks like a cow, and I kind of fell in love. I looked at the pictures a bazillion times. The boys looked at the pictures and ooohed and aahed. My parents and sisters looked at the pictures and encouraged me to call the humane society. Mike looked at the pictures ... then said he looked interesting and went back to what he was doing.

So Monday afternoon, I made a detour on the way home from school. I figured Max, Henry, and I would go to the humane society, meet this dog (and others), maybe fill out an application so we would be ready when the time came. I honestly thought I would meet him, like him, but be cured of the impulse to bring him home. HA. I did manage to come home with no additional dogs, but I arranged to bring Pluto over to see if they would get along. Amazingly, once I told Mike about him, he decided that he would take the afternoon off work today and we could introduce the dogs together.

And that was pretty much all she wrote because Pluto and Thunder made the decision for us by becoming instant and irrevocable best friends. Thunder seemed to really like Mike, and vice versa, but really Pluto had the deciding vote all along because nobody wants to have two dogs who don't like each other.

With that lengthy explanation out of the way, I present Thunder. He was born in January of this year, so he's about 7 months old, but he's already as big as Pluto. His lineage is unknown, so speculation is rampant. We might have to get one of those doggie DNA tests for him at some point. He was only at the shelter for a week; he was there because at his previous home, a dog attacked Thunder and two other dogs ... and for reasons known only to them, the owners kept the attack dog and took the other three to the shelter. Hmm. Anyway, he came with the name Thunder, and we're leaning toward keeping it. He is the sweetest boy, and we are all very happy with how it all worked out.

henry at nine

This morning, Henry and I took breakfast to my mom and my uncle Doug, who were at Gramps's house for the night. He got to sit in the kitchen with his Yami and eat a breakfast sandwich and some hash rounds, and then we went in to see Gramps. Henry has been a little worried and uncertain about whether he wanted to see Gramps when he's so sick, but in the end, he decided to go in and say hi. They had a long conversation about a glass bell Gramps has on his nightstand. It used to be part of a set of Christmas decorations, but it's been repurposed now so Gramps can use it to ring for assistance if he needs it. Henry has apparently never held a bell before (?), so he was very excited that Gramps let him ring it. They also talked about how Henry is 9 on 9/9, and Gramps sang a silly little song with the words "nine nine clementine."

It's a bittersweet day for our Henry. You all know how smart and sassy he is, so this year, I won't focus on that except to say that he continues to amaze us and make us laugh every day. What you may not know is that Henry is also really sensitive and feels things very deeply. All the boys know that Gramps is not long for this world, and it is very hard for them (for all of us), but Henry in particular has a depth of feeling that is at once surprising and not. I don't know if it's his age or level of development or what, but Henry is all heart, and his heart is hurting right now.

But it is his birthday, and even in grief there can be happiness and celebration. So today we celebrated our boy with lunch at Red Lobster (yummmmm) and then later at home with a special birthday pie we picked up from Bob Evans at his request. He's had phone calls and visits and gifts from all the important people in his life, and he knows without a doubt how loved he is.

So happy birthday to our crafty, creative, feisty Henry. I have a feeling it's going to be a golden year for you!

indiana motor bus company

When I was in grade school, I interviewed Gramps for a school assignment. The specific assignment was to interview one of your grandparents about their hero, so of course Gramps wanted to talk about his dad, Grandpa Jeff. He told me in great detail how Grandpa Jeff and his business partners built Indiana Motor Bus Company. Specifically, he was super-impressed by how they made the buses themselves by taking the chassis from Reo trucks and building bus frames on top of them. He didn't show me any pictures then, but his description was so vivid I felt like I could see them. So imagine the dork fit I had yesterday when I found these beauties in a box. Gramps decided that since I was so excited about my find, I should get to be the keeper of this particular treasure trove.

 

a reminder

I took this from our back steps last night. It's a good reminder that even when life is overwhelming, there's something beautiful to be found in it.

housewarming

The painting's all done (except the front door), the rooms are all furnished (except the basement), and Saturday we finally had our long-awaited housewarming party. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I took precisely zero pictures of any of the festivities. I set my phone down when I was getting the food set up, and I didn't pick it up again until the last guest had departed. Which is not a bad thing at all. It's been kind of a rough summer for me, but that's another story; suffice it to say that I needed an afternoon to just ... be with the people I care about. So many people made the effort to come, and I appreciate every single one of you.

There was plenty to eat and drink (so much that we are still a little overwhelmed by it!), and everyone seemed to have fun checking out the house and hanging out inside and out on the patio, where we set up extra tables. I borrowed my grandpa's cornhole set, and it was in use pretty much the whole afternoon, which made him very happy. The kids ran around in a frenzy most of the day, slowing down only to snag more cookies and/or sugary drinks before running off again. At one point, Liam and Henry got into some sort of tussle that resulted in Henry chasing Liam around with an open bottle of ice-cold water. Unfortunately for Henry, he's 8, and his aim isn't so great, so when he threw the water at Liam, he missed ... and hit me instead. I was drenched, but it was hot enough outside that I dried off pretty quickly.

And luckily for me, Erin took a couple pictures while they were here, so at least I have some cute kid/cousin shots to add to this post: