Growing up, I was very lucky to have my paternal grandparents (Ma & Pa), living right next door to me. Whenever my parents couldn’t take care of me, and lots of times when they could, I was with Ma and Pa. They taught me everything, from how to ride a bike to how to drive a car; how to plant a garden and shingle a roof; how to paint and how to build things out of wood; and they tried, boy did they ever try, to teach me how to cook and bake…that one didn’t work out so well. But they made me the person I am today and I’m very very grateful to them.

Shortly after I was born, Ma ruptured a couple disks in her back and was put on permanent disability, she was just 48 years old. When it was time for my mom to go back to work after maternity leave, which at that time was only 6 months, Ma was there to take care of me during the day. Pa was still working as a machinist at this time, and when I was older, he would always tell me stories about the one “dirty foreman”. Pa looked forward with great anticipation for when he could retire, so he would be home with Ma and I more.

Fun fact: I was born in Ontario to two English speaking parents, yet my first language was Hungarian. That tells you who I spent more time with in my early days.

The years came and went, and when I was about 12, my little sister was born. She too had the privilege of spending most of her time with Ma and Pa and as an added bonus, I was there too and I did my best to help raise her the way our grandparents had raised me. Luckily she did get the cooking and baking gene so her family doesn’t have to starve now!

More years passed, and I got married. In short order, we had our first baby, a big little boy. I had no idea what to do with this kid! All he did was cry and poop, I couldn’t get him to stop. When his father went back to work, I was even more lost as to what to do…well, there come Ma and Pa truckin’ over with food for me and arms to take the baby. Pa sat in the rocking chair for hours rocking that little boy. Ma cleaned and did dishes and fed me. I can tell you with 100% certainty, I NEVER would have made it through those times without their helping hands and hearts.

Not too much longer after that, along came another little baby boy. We moved into a new, slightly larger, place and Ma and Pa were again there helping. They took turns watching and playing with the little boys, then they’d switch and help me paint. It was right around this time, when baby #2 was about four months old, that we knew he was a different kind of little guy. Doctor and therapist appointments started, and again Ma and Pa were there to watch our bigger boy while I dealt with the smaller one. At this same time in our lives, tragedy struck, my father died. He was a pill popping, alcoholic and he committed suicide one day while mom was at work. Dad was Ma and Pa’s only child, so you can imagine they were devastated, but there was relief too.

A year later, my mom took my 12 year old little sister and moved 4 provinces away. I was heartbroken! That little girl meant the world to me and I would miss her with all my heart. It’s still my biggest regret that I didn’t fight my mother harder, to keep my sister with me.

More years passed and I had two more babies, both girls. I got older, the kids got older and Ma and Pa got older. They were always there for me. I spent hours on the phone with them each week and went to visit them every chance I had. They were slowing down, but they were still always doing something in the yard or the house, or at my place. They spent every minute they could with my kids. I soon realized that Ma and Pa weren’t just getting old, they had gotten old. Having myself and 4 rambunctious children come visit them was getting to be too much, so we trimmed back on the visits, but still saw them often.

My children are all pretty much grown now, they’re 15-20 years old. They work and have their own lives and I barely get to see them, so the visits to Ma and Pa pretty much stopped a few years ago. I still go all the time though.

February 2020, right at the beginning of what would become a world pandemic, I was shopping at Walmart when I got a phone call from the local hospital. I normally wouldn’t answer my phone in the store, but that day I did and it changed our lives forever.

The person on the other end of that call was a very patient and caring doctor. He was calling me because Pa had been admitted to hospital for what they thought was pneumonia. They did chest xrays and found that it wasn’t pneumonia, it was a very large mass in his right lung. Prior to calling me, the doctor spent hours in with my grandpa talking about choices and chances and what to do. Pa had it all decided, but he didn’t want the doctor or me to tell Ma what was going on. He wanted to do it himself. The doctor informed me that the mass was taking up most of Pa’s right lung and just from the xrays, they could tell it was a very aggressive tumor and it would take over very quickly. The doctor told Pa he only had a year at the most to live, but confided in me, that the chances of him making it even 6 more months were very very low. What a conversation to have in Walmart!!

The next day, Pa was discharged and I brought him home to Ma. It wasn’t until much later that I figured out that Pa had actually not told Ma what he was sick with and that it would kill him. In fact, I discovered this, and had to explain it all to her myself, just 3 days before he passed away.

Luckily, I had just quit my job a month before to go back to school. I was going to get my commercial drivers license like I had wanted to for so many years. Pa was so excited to see me driving a big rig, and I promised him that he would be the first to come for a ride with me. We were both more excited than a kid at Christmas.

Pa’s health took a very sudden and sharp turn for the worse. I spent hours each day on the phone with service providers, nurses, palliative care doctors, and hospice centers, but Pa wanted and we were determined to let him stay home for the rest of his time instead of being stuck somewhere where we couldn’t be with him. I organized PSWs and nurses, doctor and lab appointments, I did everything I could to help. After all, they did everything in their power to help me from the time I was born until I was well into adulthood.

Sadly, a little less than six weeks after that phone call in Walmart, Pa passed away. He was finally free of pain and distress, but it was only just beginning for us. Due to Covid and the world being shut down, my little sister never made it to Ontario to be able to say goodbye to him, and that will break her heart for the rest of her life. Pa never saw me get my CDL, and I never got to take him for that ride.

Little did I know, that the real hard days were still to come.

…to be continued…