My favorite Veteran

It's been about 6 years now since my Grandpa died. He was Concert Dad's Dad. He was a veteran of WWII, the Pacific Campaign. He was father to 5, Grandfather to 10 or 11 when he passed. He was wise. He was the glue that kept the insane members of that side of my family under wraps. He kept my Crazy Grandma in check. That side of my family has completely fallen apart since his death. Unlike the rest of those people, he never let me or my sister feel like we were adopted into his family.

I met him when Concert Mom started dating Concert Dad when I was about 8 or so. When I was 13, he suffered a major stroke, and shortly after developed Alzheimers. He lived with my family for 3 years until he started getting so sick he needed 24hr. supervision. We moved him to a Veteran's home down in Manteno, IL so he could be properly looked after. When he moved in down there, he was still able to recognize faces and knew names. I volunteered at his facility when I was 16 to complete some community service I was 'awarded' by some judge for a minor traffic infraction. When my community service was up, I continued my volunteering until he passed. Before I did the volunteer work I had been going there regularly with, and sometimes without Concert Dad. The two of us were his most frequent visitor's going there at least weekly, although most of his children and grandchildren lived as close or closer than we did. I still see the look on his face when I would walk into the door. His whole face lit up with joy up until the last few years when his disease robbed him of his mind. The last time I went to see him before he died he called me by my uncle's name. He was alone in a room with nothing. I had to wake him to let him know I was there. He opened his eyes, smiled and said "Hi Jack"

A few weeks later I got a call from Concert Mom. I was in New Jersey for work, it was Thursday and I was flying home the next day. She told me the news, and I was immediately saddened, then relieved that he was finally at peace. Upon returning home, I learned that the funeral services would be the next week, so I packed some stuff and hit the road for a few Widespread Panic shows out of town that I had planned on going to. It was good to be surrounded by my friends, who showered me with booze and other stuff. I remember being able to hold it together for the funeral, and was able to carry out my pallbearer duties with dignity. It wasn't until the 21-gun salute that I lost it. Even now, while typing this, those emotions come back.

He was a great man, who I was able to learn a lot about life from in a short period of time. I still think about him, not every day but most.

Here is to you Papa, thanks for being such a positive influence in my life.