I’ve written about this before, but this morning I got to go with my grandpa to his usual breakfast spot in the little town where my parents grew up. We recently had to take away the truck keys from my grandpa since he has become a danger to himself and others when it comes to driving. It’s a very hard concept for him to understand because it was his last stitch of freedom. As a farmer, driving has been in every part of his life. Someone has takes him to breakfast every morning where a group of his friends have met for over 15 years.
I volunteered to take him this morning since it was visiting for the weekend. We drove through town in the dark and rain headed to Dell’s. The train tracks around Cleveland are not like the ones here, here they are bumpy, uneven, and you have to go about 5 mph to cross. The only thing my grandpa said on the way into town As he shrugged was,
Guess it’s just a railroad town.
We walked in and everyone greeted him, by name asked where he picked me up at and introduced his granddaughter. A group of older men sat at a table leaving the seat at the head of the table for my grandpa. None of them needed a menu and coffee was promptly delivered when we sat down. Little to no words about what they were going to eat were exchanged and breakfast was served. The group of men that sat there talked of farming, new buildings and the weather. I chimed in every once in while, but enjoyed just listening to the conversation.
I had never gone to breakfast with my grandpa, at least not early in the morning with his group of friends. Being able to do this means the world to me. My grandparents are one of the reasons I’m not ready to move away and they are two of the most important people in my life. Being able to take him was so important to me because I was able to be a part of something he does every day. I cherish these moments and love hearing about old times and being a part of their life.