Text message I got from my sister this morning, “Despite a pocket knife, shrapnel, and a bionic hip, he [our grandpa] made it on the plane.” All I can say is…Lord help the person who is stuck next to my grandfather on that flight!
Since Lindsay and I got back from our Louisiana trip, all my grandfather could talk about was how much he wanted to go back. Recently, say the last month or so, he has become obsessed with the idea. This obsession culminated with him driving to the airport on Monday with $1200 in cash to buy a ticket to leave that night! Luckily the airport has changed so much in the last 15 years (last time he flew) he couldn’t figure out how to get to the ticket counters. He then went home and tried to buy a ticket by phone (you can still do that apparently…who knew) but was again unsuccessful because he couldn’t hear the women on the other end. He then called my father for help. My father tried to postpone him a bit, but my grandfather was having none of it. So my sister was brought into the fray to use the interwebs to buy a cheap ticket. My father then spent a couple hours on the phone arranging an escort to help my grandfather through the whole process of printing tickets, checking bags, and boarding the actual plane. So….
In approximately 40 minutes, my grandpa should be landing in Baton Rouge, LA where he will visit his family for the first time in 15 years. It is a good thing, but I can’t help but realize what this trip is really about. He is doing this because he knows this most likely will be the last time he see any of his family. That makes me sad and it makes me wish he would have given us more time so that we could have all gone down there with him.
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