He was always awkward when he visited my homes. Only ever having a sleep over twice. Once for his final Christmas and the other stay for his radiation. He preferred to show up for a gathering, get out and about and then return to his home. Even if this meant there was more driving then there was visiting. He liked to pace when things got still. It was his heritage. I am certain the last time my Grandmother visited dad’s home she wore a path in the carpet from the door to the kitchen and back again.
Now that we lived up the road, we were more accessible. It didn’t however make his visits any more comfortable. He would stop in from time to time, to check in, to say hi, or simply to get a moment out of his own house. He didn’t have work to occupy himself, so his wandering, his pacing just got more. I image it is also so true that he moved to try and get away from his own thoughts. He in fact was in that body, I imagine more aware then the rest of us how quickly it was falling apart.
We were always happy to see him. Would stop what we were doing and engage. One day, I had just made muffins. Even though he didn’t have much in the way of appetite he sat and shared one with us.
While his other senses dulled, the smile and enthusiasm he had for his grandsons stayed exactly the same as it was from the day they were born. These drop ins were at his leisure, his time line so he could walk away when it was too much to have the energy needed to ooze adoration all over a fast moving 3 and 5 year old. This was the sort of gift I could never have asked for or imagined up before it starting pouring in to my life. The awkward falling, replaced by cherished moments.