Tuesday, March 1, 2011


Shortly after my mom's homecoming, we set to work preparing a room for my grandfather to come home to. He is limited in his stair-climbing (read: not at all) so in order to keep him on one level we had to clear out his front room in order to create a bedroom/living space for him.

I've shared before that the house I live in now is the house that I grew up in. My grandfather built this house himself, and my own father has lived here his entire life; literally he has never lived anywhere else, ever. Like any family, over time purposes for rooms change, expand, and morph into the current need. The room that he is now staying in began as a dining room, for a time served as a study/office, workout room, painting studio, and most recently as a work room of sorts for my dad. He has many hobbies and this room fulfilled his need for a space of his own.

As with anything in this house, however, it was time for a change. We cleared out the room late last Thursday and my dear, sweet husband took it upon himself to prep the room for paint. He wanted the room to be fresh and welcoming for my grandfather and I couldn't have agreed more with him. He worked late into the night Friday morning, and then went to work (to paint, my husband is a saint) Friday. His plan was to finish painting Friday night and then we could actually move in the accoutrements needed for daily living. Mother nature had other plans, and our power was knocked off at about four o'clock in the afternoon by the fierce winds that came through. It knocked down the lines only on our street and so we knew PECO would not be coming anytime soon to restore the lines; our street consists of 8 houses which just is not a high priority. Steve, with steel resolve and the help of a generator, finished the painting at ten o'clock that night. Our power was restored in the middle of the night and thankfully Cutter did not awaken once.

Early Saturday morning the rest of us scrambled to finish the room (including Cutter). We hung curtains, put together a bed, and moved in a television, chair, and a few tchotchkes to brighten the space. My parents left at about ten o'clock that morning to go and bring Pop-Pop home, and his face when he saw the room made it our work (well, Steve's really) worthwhile. He was so touched by our gesture at making the room comfortable for him, and I was touched that he was so touched. Emotional? Yes! It had been twenty days since his fall and his absence at home was palpable during those twenty days.

For now he has reign of the downstairs and with the help of a slew of therapists he is working on getting into his living room - there are two rather large steps down into it - and I know he will be much happier being in his own space. There is something to be said for the comforts of home during recovery.

Cutter has taken to crawling out in the morning and peeking around the curtain to give his good morning kisses to Pop-Pop. If that's not a healing balm, I'm not sure what is!
Steve prepping the room

Completed and ready for Pop-Pop to come home

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