The Road Back
Six weeks ago, I went to visit my grandfather in Philadelphia. I was always close to him growing up, but in recent years I became increasingly aware of the importance of his example and his values in my own life. As an artist, entrepreneur, husband, and father, he embodied a spirit of principled devotion and willful independence. He sacrificed, but never limited himself. He was restrained, but never inhibited. By keeping an open mind and following his curiosity, he filled his life with a wealth of experiences. He made the most of opportunities, muddled through hardships, and, in his later years, bore up against the ravages of a crippling disease and the slow, twilight fading of his wife into the grip of dementia. But through pride and force of will, he never allowed circumstances to beat him down.
Before I went to see him, I was warned that his condition had deteriorated dramatically since I had last visited. Parkinson’s Disease made it nearly impossible for him to speak or swallow. He was too frail to walk or even feed himself without assistance, and he often spent entire days slumped motionless in his chair, staring into space, unresponsive to nurses, visitors, or my poor delirious grandmother in the bed across the room. He was also plagued by increasingly frequent hallucinations, and on days when he was able to mutter a few barely-audible words, his conversation rarely made much sense.
When I arrived with my mother and father, the nurse was just finishing giving him his breakfast. She had her back to the door and was facing my grandfather as we entered, so she was startled when he suddenly turned to face us and pushed his whole body forward and erect in the chair. “Take this tray away,” he said in a clear, strong voice, “my grandson is here.”
For the next twenty five minutes, he talked and joked with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. His hand was steady, his gaze was sharp, and his conversation indicated that he was aware of things that had been discussed during visits when he appeared completely comatose. My parents were almost speechless with shock at this miraculous burst of energy. “I’m on the road back,” he said with a knowing look.
He died this morning at the age of 95. He takes with him almost a century’s worth of irreplaceable wisdom and experience. But he leaves behind a strong family, an impressive body of artwork, and an example of dignity that I will treasure to the end of my days. What more can you ask from life than that?
4:30:33 PM 
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