In memory of Papa Z

Thursday morning around 1:15 am, my grandfather died.

As a child, I was terrified of the man; he was so big, distant, and he smelled funny. But after my grandma died, he moved in with my family until he had to move to the nursing home due to health problems. Life was aggravating, but always entertaining when he lived with us. As pissed off he would make me at times, I cherish the moments he lived with us because I got to know him, laugh with (okay, sometimes at) him, care for him, and learn from him. I wanted to share some of my favorite "grandpa" stories. There's a lot, so sorry for the mini-novel.

- My grandpa was a sweet old man. But that was a different story when he was on steroids. My sister and brother-in-law were visiting grandpa at the hospital. The nurse went up to them and said, "boy, your grandpa is ornery."
"Why do you say that?" my sister asked.
"I went into his room, and he was lying there naked with his sheets ripped off the bed. He had taken off all of his clothes, unhooked the monitors, and took out his IV. When I asked him why he did that, he replied, 'I thought you needed something to do.'"
After hearing that story, my dad told us a story about what grandpa said to him about a year ago when grandpa was on steroids. They were arguing cuz grandpa wanted Dad to get a car so he could drive again (grandpa couldn't drive, he couldn't even work the coffee machine and we put directions on it: "grandpa, push the green button"). Of course my dad said "no". In anger, grandpa said, "those kids aren't all yours." That's low, grandpa, real low...
-Grandpa had a hard time differentiating reality from fiction when it came to what was on TV. Once he was disturbed by this shark documentary he was watching. "I can't believe they let the shark eat those kids! How can they sleep at night?! That is unethical..." That 'documentary' was the movie 'Jaws'.
-My grandpa would go to my little sister's softball games. At one game, my parents kept on asking him if he needed to use the restroom cuz he had a couple of beers and, well, he has an old man's bladder, but he kept refusing. When he finally couldn't hold it any longer, he hopped up and hurried towards the restroom (and when I say "hopped up and hurried towards the restroom", I mean "a thirty minute process of repeated attempts to get out of his chair and slowly shuffling towards the parking lot"). Since the restrooms were too far away for him to make it in time, he took a detour through some parked cars and, well, relieved himself on someone's car. I wonder if he attempted to spell out "wash me" on the side of the car...
-My grandpa loves his alcohol. He had a fit when Sara said that she didn't want alcohol served at her wedding. While living with us, we tried our best to control this habit by giving him non-alcoholic beer instead of the real stuff. My dad felt kinda bad about controlling this area of grandpa's life, so he once bought him a case of real beer along with the non-alcoholic stuff. My gramps got so offended. He handed my dad the bottle of real beer and said, "don't buy me this stuff anymore. I don't want no woman's beer!" He interpreted the "don't drink if pregnant" label as "this beer is for sissies!". And there was this one time I was visiting him in the nursing home. “See all these bottles here (points at the pile of Coke bottles on his dresser)? I drink about two a day, but they are not strong enough to knock me off my feet. The nurses bring them in everyday for me.” He thinks its beer. My grandpa has struggled with alcohol his whole life. Kudos to the person that convinced him that Coke was beer.
-Gramps was an expert at ticking off my dad. In the car, he was like a little kid with the power locks and windows. Lock, unlock, lock, unlock, up, down, up, down, down, doooooowwwn, lock, up, unlock, up, uuuuup, down, up. My dad would make his 'pissed-off' sigh and would lock the controls for the windows and and lock. And at home, grandpa would try to fix the VCR by shoving screw drivers and butter knifes in the video slot. He just didn't understand why the VCR wouldn't play DVDs, even though we showed him multiple times where the DVDs went. He 'fixed' about 4 VCR/DVD players. My dad's a good man.
-My grandpa talked a lot about his time in the marines. He talked about how he was an island spotter, which is the guy they drop off before everyone else to scope the place, and how he was on a one man submarine, and how he was a bomber pilot. Also he shared how he lost his teeth because he was saving a guy who was injured, and the area he was in got bombed and the back draft of the explosion knocked out his teeth and he didn’t noticed until he was eating ice cream back at the base. And his swallowing problem was due to the fact that he got shot in the neck while saving my dad in the war(I don't know how that works, but that's what he tells me). Sounds impressive, huh? None of those stories are true. It was the same stories over and over again, but I’ve gotten really good at pretending that it was the first time I have heard them. Every time they change a little bit, but the over-all themes stay the same. I kinda viewed him as an exaggerated version of many of us. Many people become heroes in their own minds, and have a hard time finding fault in choices they have made that have had serious consequences. But I must admit that I love his stories, and knowing that for the most part, they are not true. It kind of reminds me of the movie ‘Big Fish’. Why correct him? Does it really matter? Let him be that hero.
- And, of course, there's naked stories. And I was only one who got to experience them; aren't I lucky? My grandpa sometimes wasn't "all there". He was usually fine, but every once and a while he has a "bad" day. Example, one day when I came home from school, he was wearing four shirts, his belt was twisted to the side, and his hair was disheveled. I asked him if he was hot, to see if there was a logical explanation for the shirts, then I pointed out that he was wearing four shirts, counting them for him (to get him back in touch with reality), then asked him if he needed help with his shirts, then I also helped him fix his belt. I'm used to this kinda stuff from work and school, so it was no big deal. But one morning, I had been busy running errands and doing stuff around the house. After putting my laundry away, I ran down stairs to make myself some lunch. I turn the corner, and there grandpa was, standing at the food pantry in his robe wide open, exposing his, um, "manly glory". I quickly turned around and headed back up the stair. Didn't know how to handle that one. I mean, it's not the first time I've seen, well, you know, cuz at both my school and my work I've seen it all, but it's different when it's your grandpa... at home... in front of the pantry... blarf. I decided best not to confront him about his lack of clothing, making both of us uncomfortable. "Um, hey grandpa, do you realize that your, uh, is, uh... it's not really sanitary to uh... would you like a hot dog for lunch?" Yeah, it was just easier to go back up stairs. I lost my appetite, anyway. Once, I was visiting him in the hospital and I was in my scrubs. When he saw me, he knew he knew me but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Noticing my nurse attire, his eyes lit up, and he ripped off his blanket and gown, and yelled, "ya wanna see my penis?". No, not really. Ends up he was having a problem understanding what a catheter was and why it was in him, and I have since had a problem with my sleeping.

I might not have gotten to know you as well as I would like to, but I will always cherish those last couple of years together, Grandpa. I love you, I miss you, and I look forward to seeing you again someday.