Bitter Sweet

Yesterday was the big party for my grandparents 70th wedding anniversary and my gramma's 90th birthday. Mom has been planning this for a few months. It was held at her house from 1-4ish. I was over all day Saturday helping set up, and early yesterday. I'm exhausted, physcially and emotionally. But my grandparents had a wonderful time and thats all that matters. Why its so bitter sweet:

I'm almost as close to my grandparents as I am my parents. I love them so much it hurts me sometimes. They helped raise my brother and I as we grew up. They've always been a huge part of my life, and I try to do everything I can to always help them/be there for them when they need me, and when they dont. I call them almost every other day abouts just to check in and make sure alls well. Gramma calls me her favorite grandchild. (Sorry Shane, Dyana and Leslie!)

As I've grown up with my grandparents, I've also grown up with thier friends. They have friends like me. So many, and so wonderful. They used to be part of this group called Alpine Andy. It was a group of 10-15 couples that would go camping once every couple of months. I went sometimes. The Hietts had a grandaughter around my age and she would go too sometimes, but there were trips I went alone. I remember Leo Gamas once said to me - "I'm so surprised that someone your age likes to hang out with us old farts!" I just smiled and said I love hanging around with anyone. I truly loved to hear thier stories. I loved to watch this group of older people camping and laughing and drinking and sharing such wonderful friendships. So I was the grandchild everyone knew. I've been to about 35 funerals in my life. A large chunk of these being friends of my grandparents. I show up, and no one is surprised. They've all come to expect me there I think. Bettie's grandaughter. Thats me.

We threw a surprise party for my Papa's 90th birthday 3 years ago. Pretty much the same situation. It rips my heart out to watch all my grandparents friends walkin up in walkers, canes, so old, so frail. These are the same people that used to build fires and camp and cook and drink. At Papa's party I found myself pouring a stiff drink when 3 of the friends I had come up to, to ask how they were told me they were "Waiting to die!". I was horrified. Eventually I found myself with my dad and the 2 other fireman that my papa had worked with who said "Woody doesnt look a day over 50!!!!".

Yesterday was similar to this party, but a little different. First off all we had about a 6 minute DVD that played a bunch of pictures of my grandparents over the years with music. It was so sweet, it made me cry. I really lost it when we watched it with my grandparents before the party started - I glanced over and my papa was crying. My Papa!!!! My stalwart, loyal, dont fuck with, strong, exceptional man. Crying. I left. I walked outside for a cigarette followed by my brother, who also couldnt stand watching my papa cry. A few minutes later here comes mom and Shane's wife. "Jesus!" Mom shouts - "I cant watch dad cry!" No joke. As we stand out there the 1st of the guests start to arrive. I squint to see who just got dropped off. My god its Harold Craig. Last time I saw him was when I drove my grandparents out to see them in Hemet and he was hooked up to a oxygen tank. His wife and thier caregiver come walking up after parking the car. I hug and greet him. "I'm so glad you could make it!" I say. "We wouldnt miss this for the world" he says and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I kiss his wife Ruth and watch them walk in assisted by Elvie (thier caregiver). Tears well up in my eyes again. Mom looks at me and sighs, having the same eye problem. A few minutes later another car pulls out and out drives Dee in her motorized wheelchair with son and caregiver in tow. Jesus. We say our hellos, kisses. Next up Diane in her wheelchair with son and caregiver. Diane hasnt been out of her bed in a year. She actually had 2 fucking strokes over the last week in a half!!!! We hello, kiss. "I would never miss this" she says, hands shaking.

I'm now in the party running around, snapping photographs, checking on gramma/papa, getting drinks or food, doing whatever I can and sweating profusley. Fucking humidity! Here come the Kosmon's. Cecil looks horrible. He kisses my cheek and gasps out a hello. I'm called away by gramma. I get caught up doing something for someone. 20 minute later Margarite Kosmon's daughter Sharon has me by the arm - "Mom has been shouting where's Jami!" she laughs. I run over to say hi to her, she stands gives me a kiss, we chat, she tells me Cecil has dementia. Jesus. I'm running around more. Gramma grabs me - tells Patti and Jane I'm her angel. I kiss her and continue running around. I take cigarette breaks when I can.

This is so hard. I hold it together. As people leave I say my goodbye's, wondering if its the last time I'm going to see this person. I know for some it is. We clean up the party - pack up my grandparents and wrap up the night. Mom, me, Danelle, Dyana and Jody all sit in the patio, smoking, snacking, talking. Its so nice. I miss my cousin Dyana. We used to be inseperable. She's now got 3 kids. They're screaming in the background. No death screams, so she can stay and visit with us. I take Danelle home. I get on the fwy home well after dark. I start to cry. I cry the whole way home. It was a perfect party. Everyone had a wonderful time, my grandparents especially. But aging sucks. As happy as I was that I saw everyone, as happy as I was my grandparents are here to celebrate this momentous occasion, I still have that pang in my heart. It hurts. I think its because I love them so much.