Today, I received an email from my Dad telling me about his new life. How many lives do we live anyway?

I wonder how many lives my grandfather would say he lived. He was born in South Carolina in 1923. I believe he was raised by his father Berry and mother Mildred for a time. But, I really don't know. I did not come into his story until 1971. The first thing I really remember of him was from Abington where he lived with Dot (aka Miss Adams) and their son Sean. Dot was a round cheerful woman who cooked my brother and I the hugest breakfast with bacon every time we stayed over. Sean was several years older than my brother and used to collect old bottles, listen to Styxx and REO Speedwagon and would often take my brother and I on his drug deliveries - a pretty surreal experience for a 10 year old sheltered suburbanite. Anyhow, the first real memories I have of my grandfather are him saying "comes the revolution." He always used to say it, but I never really understood what he meant by it.

When I was a kid, I missed a lot. I am not sure if I was told how things were, and was unable to comprehend. Or, if my parents did not tell me in the first place. I have many pleasant childhood memories of Coleman Road in Abington. It was a fun place.

It was a very separate place from McFarlin Road in Chelmsford where my dad's mother, Shirley lived. She lived with Grampa Bear (her father-in-law Berry Watts Philpot), a pet squirrel and at least one siamese cat. I remember going over their house a lot. I would sit on Berry's lap in his chair and for some reason that made me happy. Berry loved to sit in his chair and read the newspaper or watch the Red Sox. My grandmother had her own chair, a wheelchair. I believe she was diagnosed with MS sometime shortly after my dad was born. As far back as I can remember, she was confined to that wheelchair. This never affected her demeanor. I remember her as always having a smile and she was very affectionate. Whenever my brother and I would come over, she would take out her jar of peanut M&M's and give us each one. We would play cards for hours and hours, and sometimes she would blow rings of cigarette smoke for us. I think Bob and I begged her to do this everytime she had a cigarette.

Shortly after my grandmother passed away, I became a self-absorbed teenager. I had very little interest in knowing my grandfather. Several years later when I was moving back East from California (with Mary) I decided I would drop by and visit him in New Mexico. Apparently, he had a life long dream of living in New Mexico. Some many years after Dot passed away he decided to grasp that dream, got on a plane and moved with his third wife Lou. When Mary and I visited him, he was in rough shape. He was trying to learn how to use computers and email and was having some trouble. So, he asked me if I could help. I realized his computer was old, so I just bought him a new one. But, the real issue wasn't the computer. He had arthritus so it was hard for him to type. Also, his eyesight was going, so he had trouble reading the screen. When I was done configuring his new computer I sat down with him at the computer to watch him at work. It was very sad. Unfortunately, he was getting old and his body was failing him. I wanted to do anything I could do to help him. I thought fixing his computer would help. It did not. Now, that I think back, I wish I just spent all that time getting to know him.

Several years passed before I returned to New Mexico. My father called and told me grandpa was in the hospital. My brother and I got on a plane and met up with my dad, Sean and Pam in New Mexico. Until this time, I had never met Pam. I had recently learned my dad had a sister. Apparently my grandfather had a child with Lou sometime after my dad was born. Pam was in New Mexico with her boyfriend Danny to comfort her mother during this hard time. When I went to visit the hospital I found my grandfather coming out of a coma. My dad had been back and forth between the hospital for several days and told me he was looking better. Unfortunately, things went down hill from here. I will never forget those last days with him. I remember one morning we were by his side and he was very weak, trying to say something. My father figured out that he was asking for water. The doctor said he was too weak to swallow, so the best they could do was give him a wet sponge to suck on. It was so sad watching this. I remembered this man when he was so strong. And now, he was here lying in bed with not even enough energy to sip water. When he tried sucking the water from the sponge, he had trouble swallowing, and some water went down the wrong pipe causing him to cough. It took every bit of life he had in him, not to choke on those few drops of water. A few days later my grandfather passed away.

I wish I knew my grandfather better.
My dad told me the same thing.