an ice storm I went to visit my Grandparents at their house. It became obvious that there was a disagreement in progress. My Grandfather had a greenhouse attached to the side of the house. Metal frame, glass panes. In the ice storm, the electric service had come off the side of the house and was lying on the greenhouse. The electricity was still flowing and there appeared to be no immediate problem. It was dark out. My Grandfather was in the process of getting ready to go out into the ice-covered world, get on top of the greenhouse, and reattach the service to the house. My Grandmother was strenuously objecting. They were probably in there late '70's at this time.
The thing that makes my Grandfather less crazy than he immediately seems here is that for many years he was a telephone lineman. He was used to heights, live wires, and nonexistent footing. He didn't get to the top of a pole in a bucket attached to a truck, he climbed the pole and made himself comfortable at the top attached by a belt. Carrying tools. I was, of course, not happy with the thought of him doing what he planned to do. It seemed an avoidable way to die and I was tempted to chime in on my grandmother's side. But as I listened to their argument I realized there was more going on than whether or not the service got attached to the house that night. They were both fighting for my Grandfather's life, but in completely different ways. I left them to it, but with some peace with however it would turn out. They let us go at some point when we were young, probably with their hearts in their mouths, hoping we would live to tell the tale. At some point when life is moving in the opposite direction, we should probably let them go. They aren't growing anymore like we were, but they are making their own choices and using their autonomy to be who they are. Just like they wished for us, we hope they live to tell the tale. If they do not, they died being who they were. There are worse things than thta.
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