Real Simple Essay 2011

**Ok people, I've edited this some and made a few changes. I'm cutting this close as the deadline is Sept 15th so I need as many pair of eyes to see if there are any grammar or spelling errors before I sent this is. I'm sending this in to enter the magazine 'Real Simple's writing contest. They do this every year but with a different question to answer in your essay. The question this year was 'When did you first know the true meaning of love?'  Please let me know - do you think I did a good job at answering?? Thank you for your support and if I win the top prize of $3,000 in cash and trip to NYC, I'll be happy to send you a postcard:) 

Honoring A Parent's Love

The parent-child relationship is a unique bond and so individually special that no words can truly sum them all into one description. Many Americans are faced with the day when they are no longer the child in that relationship but the parent; not only to their own children but to their parents as well. My mom is  in that category.  She is not only a parent to me, her 26 year old daughter, but also a parent to her 85 year old father, while my 87 year old Grandma is her co-parent.

My grandparents have been married for 65 years, have 6 children, 10 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren. They are devote Christians, hard workers, and all around 'good people'. If you were to see them walking down the road you probably would not be able to help but smile. He stands at 6'4, has a permanent farmer's tan from days in the field  and she (rounding up) comes in at 4'11, wobbles more than walks due to an old hip surgery.  The most compelling part of them happens to be on the inside however; I would say as two individuals  and as a couple they are the definition of every romantic, friendship, and faith-based card Hallmark has ever written.

They moved from small town Florida some years ago to Northern Indiana to be closer to family, just in case they needed help in the years to come. My mom is number four out of the six kids, and one of the three that live in the same town as my grandparents. She is the one that Grandma came to when she started noticing a difference in Grandpa.  The signs were small and changes barely noticeable; Grandpa was forgetting things.  He didn't remember if he had brushed his teeth, or how to tie his shoes, he could not remember what he had for breakfast or if he even had breakfast.

 My grandma started taking  care of him, for better or worse and in sickness and in health; she not only spoke those words on the day of their wedding but lives them out as well.  She would remind him to brush his teeth and show him how if he could not remember. She would even dress him in the mornings, but it was becoming too overwhelming.  Grandma couldn't button the tops of his old Levi's with her arthritic hands. She wasn't able to help him slide his feet into the cowboy boots that became his signature. She was taking care of a man twice her size, it was exhausting. The jeans had to be replaced with sweatpants; they were easier to put on and take off.  And the boots? Well they sit in a dark closet under a thin coating of dust like an old photograph album would.   My mom could tell it was becoming overwhelming for her mother and decided it was time someone stepped in to help and she was just the child to do it.

The tasks started off small; running my grandma to the grocery store,  the library, or to their little country Mennonite church in the corn field. She would take her out to lunch and give her a break from the stress of life; if not but for a few hours. This was fine to do until one day they came home to find Grandpa  with a bruise and no memory as to how he got it. She called siblings to see if he could go to their house while Grandma was out and also so they would be able to spend time with their dad before it became a wishful thought.  Mom got answers like 'I'll have to check my calendar' or 'I don't have time' and  bluntly 'I'm too busy!'  The answer she got, for the most part, was that she was on her own.

The day I think it set in, that Grandpa was digressing,  for most of the family was when Mom had to go over to their house to bandage his leg. He had skin  missing and was causing himself to bleed because 'The band-aid wouldn't come off' - there was no band-aid.  Mom called her siblings that lived in other states, miles away from the reality to let them know what was happening to their father.  Denial seemed to be the road taken for those not there instead of the road home to help out where help was needed most.

Grandpa has good and bad days, we all do. The bad days are when he has a hard time remembering what year it is, how many children he has or how long he has been married to his bride. The sad part is that he knows he is fading, he will get frustrated with himself and feel like he is a burden more than a member of the family.  The good days, well they are the ones  we cherish. He will look at my grandma and wink , causing her to blush. We'll ask him if that was something he used to do when they were dating. He'll reply 'I am just so lucky to be married to such a pretty lady.' These are the moments that prove even though his memory may be fading, his love for her is not.

Unfortunately  the months are passing and as they do the good days are not happening as often as they used to be. We are starting to see the toll it's taking on an 87 year old frail body to take care of another human being. Grandma is falling or finding herself on the ground and not knowing how she got there ; she is tired and my  mom is worrying more. She and my uncle have visited homes in the area,  searching for that one place they would be confident to know their parents are getting the same love and care they  provide. These visits end in tears of frustration  and added stress. My mother's 'days off' are never  truly off;  if she has free time she is more than likely with my grandparents.  Of course she wishes there were times where she could do what she pleased and not have to worry but as she has told me on many occasions  'When the day comes where I will not have to take care of them will be the day  I wish I could.'

You see Mom isn't just doing this because she has to but because she wants to.  It is her privilege to provide them with the same loving care that they gave to her as she was growing up . I feel that even though her siblings are not helping out as much as they should; she is gaining something they are missing out on- unconditional love. The love that was there to kiss away the 'boo-boos' and give hugs to remind them they are loved.  The love that kept them safe and out of a nursing home for as long as possible. The kind of love that wiped away Grandma's tears as she watched her one and only slip away.  The most powerful kind of love that showed honor, respect, and dedication to the ones that brought her into the world. She will not have to wish for more days or regret the phone calls never made. She will not have a 'would have, could have, should have', moment because she did.

This story, my mom and grandparents  parent-child relationship, is dedicated to those who are out there being the best parents they know how to be, to their parents. This story is to honor those who honor their parents and the lessons  of love they provided them growing up. This is my way to say thank you to those who love unconditionally.

Thank you for taking care of generations past and for teaching generations of the future what love truly  means.