A detour from the past

I know it hasn't been that long ago that I invited Critter to join me in telling the stories of old. I realize that I started a story with "A Old House" that isn't finished. But there is a story to be told, one I can't put off to finish unfinished business. One that isn't that old.

Actually, it can't even be one story. But I have a need to write about my days with Poppa. His last days, that he allowed me to be part of.

I suppose I'll start at the beginning... How it came to be.

Critter was overloaded. She needed help, but I think maybe she thought there was no one to help. Poppa didn't much like people around he didn't know well and I hadn't been around in a LONG time. How could I help, if he wouldn't allow me to? But Critters husband is a smart guy, and he said "Brat, come take care of my wife". Maybe I couldn't help with Pop, but I could be there for Critter.

The day I arrived in Louisville, "The Aunts" (those quotes will be used often, and you'll learn why) took Pop out to the country where one "Aunt" lives. Critter picked me up, we drove over to Critters in-laws place to make short visits here and there then headed back to the Big O. I can't remember if he was suppose to spend the night or not, seems like that might have been the plan, so Critter and I could do some catch up talkin. The next day, "The Aunts" said he wanted to stay another night and Critter and I started some painting that had been waiting for to long. The next day Poppa came down from the country. (He called me by my name, maybe Terry had just told him I was there.)

But he really wanted to go back, they were going to be cutting down some big trees and he wanted to watch the work in progress, he'd be back after they were done. No problem. "The Aunts" said well after the trees came down they had ate and he was tired and they'd bring him home tomorrow. Tomorrow came and went and Critter decided that it was time to go get Poppa. Something wasn't feeling right, he didn't much like being away from home. He didn't like Critter not being there. Something wasn't right, in fact there was several things that were wrong.

We took the drive out to see what was up, and I thought we'd both break our necks trying to get out of the car.. practically before it even stopped. There was Poppa, half way down the hill... carrying a 5 gallon buck about a quarter full of water for the tomato plants. He was white as a sheet and he looked like his knees were about to buckle under him and we flew down that hill getting on each side of him (I'm not sure which of us chunked the bucket) but we got him back up the hill and in a chair for a rest. He was tired and confused, wondered why Critter hadn't been around. And after she talked with him for a bit, they walked to the picnic table for a little private conversation. "The Aunts" were oblivious to his condition, didn't seem to notice that he looked like he was going to drop. Their mouths going faster than their brains, with nonsense that no one seemed to be listening to.

I'll let Critter tell you of their conversation if she so desires. But I will tell you this much about it. He didn't know he had a home waiting for him to come back to. He didn't know that Critter had been waiting for him to come back. He thought he was with "The Aunts" because that was the only place he had to go. And I totally believe "The Aunts" liked him thinking that, I wonder what words they used to put that thought in his head. And if God sees fit to send them to hell for what all they did those last few weeks.. I'll kiss his feet an extra 2 times.

Critter straightened out the confusion. Poppa was like "I want to go home!" and he went and got in the car. "The Aunts" were upset! Said things like "we just want him to get the best care!". Like that wasn't what he'd been getting?? He's been sick for 3 years and they finally start to help out 3 weeks earlier and somehow THEIR care was the correct care?! Like I said, mouths going faster than their brains. But we learned soon enough there isn't much brains between the two. But with those couple of cells apiece, they sure managed to do a lot of hurt.

The first couple of days Poppa didn't pay much attention to me. Then he figured out I can cook. Old home style cookin.. and he liked my gravy. My hot cakes weren't to damn bad either. He started to tell me things like "wash those dishes" or "scratch my back" or "rub my shoulder". Hand me a empty cup and say "coffee". I started to feel at home and he seemed to not mind me being around.