My dad would have been 73 today. He was the youngest of three brothers. They were 7 years apart. My uncle Bill is the only survivor. He’s the middle one and was born on my grandma’s birthday – February 24. He’d be 80 this year.
In the early 80s my grandma had a stroke and spent the rest of her life in a nursing home. Half her face was partially paralyzed and she had trouble enunciating. She hated the home. She whispered in my ear that the staff treated her like an infant.
Before the stroke I started visiting on a regular basis. She’d open a couple of cans of beer and we’d talk. Until this, I didn’t know she drank at all.
She confessed to me that before my dad she was pregnant but lost the baby. She never told anyone. She had been carrying the pain of this for years. She told me she wasn’t really sure my dad would make it.
In case it's too small to read, my dad's the mustache on the right.