Boy vs. Pavement

Blaine had a little accident the other night. He was riding his bike, his friend was on the scooter and they collided. Blaine went head first off the bike. His friend managed to stay upright and had no damage. But, as you can tell from the photos, Blaine used his face to break his fall. He knocked out one tooth, ripped the inside of his lip open with said tooth and generally skinned his face up. He was wearing his helmet - he always does and now he knows exactly why. Without his helmet on I am sure the forehead would have cracked open as well.

We went to the dentist this morning. All the other teeth are fine and the lip is healing well. According to the xrays, the dentist said that Blaine probably would have been losing that tooth in the next 6 to 12 months. The adult tooth is perfectly positioned to come in and has no trauma from the fall, so it's all good.

The best part for Blaine? The tooth fairy hooked him up. She gave him bonus money for having the tooth forcefully ejected. And then she had a drink. Or two.

The Sorrow

I've been trying to write this piece for a month. I keep putting it off. Maybe, in some way, I know that posting it makes it real. Makes it final. So instead of trying to write, and rewrite and procrastinate more, I am just going to post it.

My grandpa died last month. He was 98, and had outlived almost everyone he knew, including his wife of 70 years, my beloved grandma who died almost one year ago. We were all really surprised that he lasted as long as he did after grandma went, we all figured he would go within weeks, if not days of her.

I took the kids and went up to see him when we were in the states in June/July of this year. I said my good byes. He had a few lucid moments while we were there - asked me about David (who couldn't travel with us to Alabama at the time) and how I liked living overseas. He played with the kids - he could wiggle his ears and it used to amuse the hell out of me when I was little and it was no different for Blaine, he thought it was a riot. The day we left, he hugged and kissed me and told me how much he loved me and then said "I don't expect to see you again". He was my last living grandparent. I was so lucky to have been able to know him and my grandmother as an adult and to have had such a wonderful relationship with them both. I'm not a big believer in God, but I do believe that my grandmother was waiting for him because their souls are destined to be together. I'm glad he is out of his pain and suffering - the last few months have been very hard on his body. I am glad he is at peace. But as glad as I am that the suffering has ended, I'm still sad and weepy because he's gone.

The hardest part of him being gone is that it is truly the end of an era for our family. Every summer vacation was spent on the farm. The past few years have seen my parents going to the farm a few times a year (a 14 hour drive) because of my grandparents' poor health. But even when my grandparents started failing (to use a very southern term), their house was always a vibrant gathering place. Friends, family, neighbors - the word always got out when my mom was in town and everyone would come to sit a spell and visit. Even after my grandmother could no longer whip up a feast that she would modestly call "Sunday supper" everyone would still come down. Only now, it was usually my dad doing the cooking. My grandmother loved it when her son-in-law was in the kitchen - she loved it when he cooked Thanksgiving dinner for them.

So many memories, so much history, so many wonderful times. All of them happened in that small, green country house. Now all that's left is the empty house and what I hold in my heart.