So, today marks the 63rd wedding anniversary of Rue (my grandfather I live with) to his wife.
Anytime I bring up my grandmother, people are always shocked to hear that she is still alive since I don’t talk about her as much and since Rue and I live alone together.
She is actually in a home since she has Alzheimer’s for the past 15 years.
She is in the final mental stages where she cannot really talk outside of saying “Hello” occasionally and she cannot take care of herself.
Because of this, we have her in a home and Rue uses his motorized wheelchair twice a day to go each lunch and dinner with her.
He had me pick up some flowers for her, which I arranged into a bouquet, and then I made cake bites, because a full cake would be hard for her to eat.
Then today when we were going at lunch, which he celebrated the anniversary at lunch time with her because he didn’t want to mess up her nightly bedtime ritual, he left early so he could make sure that the women at the home put her make up on that day.
“She would have been wanting to wear her make up.”
Okay, Rue isn’t the greatest man in the world. In fact, homeboy is a pretty mean old cuss.
However, living with Rue I have heard him talk about how much her loves her so many times.
The other night he mentioned to me how upset he was that he could only use one arm and was wheelchair bound? Why specifically did he bring it up?
He said he couldn’t hold his wife, he could only rub her back and pet her hair and that was rough for him.
63 years and he is just as devoted to her as he has always been.
His whole day revolves around her still.
It’s not the Notebook, but it sure as hell is some sort of romantic.