My Grandma Ber and Grandpa Fuddy (Dan & Berylene Frampton) are the salt of the earth.
My grandma went back to school in her 50s and became a nurse. At her graduation, the entire nursing class stood and cheered for her. She has that effect on people. She was a wonderful nurse. She would often be found washing patients' hair or feet trying to make them feel better.
My grandpa is a patriarch and I had the wonderful opportunity to fly back to NJ (while they were on their mission) when I was a senior in high school and receive my patriarchal blessing from my grandpa. When I was getting ready to leave on my mission to Japan, it was my grandma who looked me straight in the eye and said, "Don't be one of those wussy sister missionaries. Be tough and be bold." Yes ma'am.
Grandpa Fuddy married Jonathan and I in the Salt Lake Temple. He rented temple pants for the ceremony and they were about 4 inches too short...total floods. He made sure to announce it and let everyone have a laugh before Jonathan and I came into the room. Our wedding reception was in their beautiful backyard. After months of working so hard on that yard to get it in tip top shape (all my mother's doing), threatening rain clouds rolled in as we were putting the finishing touches on the outdoor decor. It started to rain. My grandpa took a small group of us in his home and called upon heaven to keep the elements at bay until this wedding was over. The rain stopped. Many people came through the line wondering how it was not raining there because it was raining at there house just a few minutes away. A miracle.
My grandparents have served four missions, each for 2 years. Their first mission was to Morristown, NJ. I don't think they were home more than 8 months before they left again, this time to Zimbabwe. They then went on a humanitarian mission to China where they taught English. My grandpa came home from China with a horrible case of SARS as his souvenir. It took a while for him to recover, and then they were off again to Russia.
When Grandpa Fuddy came home from Russia, he wasn't the Grandpa Fuddy we remembered. He was having a hard time remembering things. He was later diagnosed with lewy body dementia and over the past 4 years we've seen him rapidly go downhill. He is still the kindest man I know, now he's more like a little child, and I just have to remind him who I am.
A few weeks ago Grandma Ber had her hip replaced with a fancy new titanium one. Because of this, she needed help caring for both her and Grandpa Fuddy. We had the opportunity to go and hang out with them and I'm so glad that my girls are getting to know these amazing people just a little bit better.
London having lunch with Grandpa
Addy playing the Wii while grandpa dodged her wild antics (He wanted to sit there. I asked him multiple times if he wanted to move, he kindly declined. He likes living on the edge.)
While it's not the grandpa I grew up with, we still enjoy the time we have to spend with him. Walks to the mailbox, laps around the island to keep him awake, and drives to the store are all new memories that my children will have with their Grandpa Great.
Edit: Thought I'd post my sister's comment:
In church on Sunday different members were sharing stories of their family's traditions. A man in my ward, Dan Adams, got up and starting reading this article from a 1988 Ensign about Dan and Berylene Frampton's family traditions. I had forgotten all about that article. I started to cry and pretty much sobbed my way through Sacrament Meeting remembering all of the things you wrote about.
The thing with Grandma and Grandpa is it was never for show. It is the real thing. I know because as we serve them in their home I watch them continue to live the gospel, even now with no public exposure. I help get their glasses and scriptures so they can sit by each other on the couch and Grandma reads and keeps showing Grandpa where they are. Prayers before every meal, naming eveyone one by one and what they are stuggling with. On and on.
I am sorry that your Grandpa is struggling. I have a lot of wonderful memories with both of your grandparents. I remember being a little jealous you had such amazing grandparents growing up, but was always happy they were so willing to include me too. My grandma passed away last month, and it was really hard. A lot harder then I thought it would be. There is just something about losing your grandparents that makes you feel old.
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In church on Sunday different members were sharing stories of their family's traditions. A man in my ward, Dan Adams, got up and starting reading this article from a 1988 Ensign about Dan and Berylene Frampton's family traditions. I had forgotten all about that article. I started to cry and pretty much sobbed my way through Sacrament Meeting remembering all of the things you wrote about.
The thing with Grandma and Grandpa is it was never for show. It is the real thing. I know because as we serve them in their home I watch them continue to live the gospel. I help get their glasses and scriptures so they can sit by each other on the couch and Grandma reads and keeps showing Grandpa where they are. Prayers before every meal, naming eveyone one by one and what they are stuggling with. On and on.
Thanks for writing this tribute. Well said.