Jeremy and I sat in the waiting room with my parents for about 13 hours during surgery, recovery, and the move to ICU. The Lord is merciful and my grandpa made it through the surgery alright, but he's hurting. He's slowly recovering, and my parents have been living out of a hotel and sitting at the hospital all day long every day since Tuesday, and plan to do the same at least through the end of this week.
Last night we decided my parents needed a break from hospital food, and we brought a picnic. Barbecue sandwiches, cole slaw, tomato salad and a pretty darn good (if I can admit that myself) home-made strawberry rhubarb pie - home cooked picnics do wonders for a weary soul.
(Mom don't kill me for putting this up - I just really like the fact
that you're enjoying my pie ;)
After dinner we went back to Pappaw's room. It's hard to see him hooked up to machines with tubes and wires everywhere, in such a fog from medication that he doesn't know where he is. This is the same Pappaw who held my hand and walked me down to the lake to feed the ducks when I was a kid, who guided my hand on the shifter as he taught me how to drive standard in his classic re-built MGB when I was 14, who saved and saved to pay for me and Jeremy's wedding bands and then kissed me before I walked down the aisle. Now I'm holding his hand and kissing his cheek.
Lord, help Pappaw get better soon.