When the people you love get old

Hank looking dashing...or...sweet mother of PAISLEY

Who could resist Bert's legs?!

You know it's love when you stick around long enough to
stop recognizing each other from the outside.

Last week, my Aunt Kandee (who is only three years older than I am) called to ask me to keep in closer contact with my Grandma.  Apparently, Grandpa had been given meds post surgery without much supervision, had lost 35 pounds in three weeks, and had suddenly switched into dimentia.  Now, I knew my grandparents were getting old.  The last time they drove sixteen hours to see me, they got a little lost in the area due to road work signs and were afraid to drive away from their hotel in order to make it the last 35 minutes.  We drove to bring them to us instead and had a very pleasant day of it.  But, this hit me really hard.  My grandpa is the only one who ever called me Bucket.  Now, I don't want everyone else to pick up on the nickname, cuz, let's face it, that's silly.  It's just that he was always the tough as nails carpenter and so sweet to me that I will lose the part of myself that would place my palm in his, certain that I had inherited his big hands even after realizing it was genetically impossible when he stops remembering to call me by my nick name...and this is truly, deeply sad.