Grampy taught me to live in the moment and enjoy life for what it is. He taught me to be in the present and less concerned with the past or future. He taught me how to live five minutes at a time. While my father would go over and watch tv with him after work, he struggled to see the need and value of taking Grampy out into the world and moving his body and mind. It felt to me like he resented that Grampy couldn’t remember where we had just gone and what we had done. Grampy always enjoyed the moment, and I valued creating beautiful moments with him.

Over three years Grampy transitioned from a walker into the same wheelchair that he used to push Grammy in when we would go out on the town. His strength and body were weakening, but his soul was eager to explore. When I would tell him I was leaving town again, he would be devastated, saying things like “Who is going to take me out on adventures?”. I would assure him that I would be back soon and the daily trips would resume.

Our last adventure was along the same Riverside Drive that Grampy had taught me to drive on fifteen years earlier. I took him down the rocky path in his wheelchair and pushed him down by the river’s bank. It was an unusual time as the river was flooding small towns all over Oklahoma. There was a chance that the levy would break and flood parts of Tulsa as well. The waters were flowing by with impressive power.  As we made our way down the boat ramp, at some point Grampy lost his glasses. Their loss may have played a role in his transition from this existence.