Pa-pa

Richard's dad is in the last throws of dementia. It's terribly sad to watch this man, who was so vital and full of life when Rich and I first married, slowly lose every bit of life. Now bedridden, he's become a shell of a person, barely recognizing even his sons and grandsons. 

When I first met him, Rich's parents were in their late 30s, working and farming, raising a family and caring for elderly parents of their own. The Marcotte men would throw 50 lb. crates of sweet potatoes onto stacks that reached well above my head. 

 My father-in-law is the last of his generation of our family, having buried his four brothers. 

Today I asked our sons to pitch in and help us care for their grandparents. The task is too much and though we are three--Rich, his mom, and I--we need all hands on deck. 

So our boys will get a lesson in caring for the sick.  Who better to care for than their grandfather? The man who taught them the value of hard work and fair wages... and foul French words, yes, literally!