Grandpa
By Michelle Webster-Hein
February 22, 2014
My mother’s father is slowing down--growing quieter and more forgetful. This evening, while my grandma cooked dinner, my daughter and I sat with him in the den. He is too frail to hold her or bounce her up and down on his knee, but not too far gone to notice her staring at the birthday balloon floating behind his chair.
Slow as a turtle his hand reached back and grasped the string and pulled it forward. Then he fell asleep holding the balloon while his great granddaughter batted it back and forth and I thought, over and over, I am in the presence of a very good man.
