Give Love. It’s free.

Visiting my friend’s 90-something grandfather in his assisted living home was an experience I’ll never forget. I hadn’t seen him since last Christmas. I’d heard stories about his decline in health. He couldn’t hear, walk, stay awake, remember, speak coherently, see clearly, or enjoy anything but Chinese food. A pretty bleak list. His condition was hard to swallow as I had known him to be an unstoppable man who was full of passion. I wondered if my visit would make any difference. Would he even remember me? I hadn’t ridden Bart or Muni since college, but I braved the crowded, greasy,public transit to deliver Chinese food to my old friend.

I’ve known my friend’s grandfather since high school. He was a passionate doctor who made free house calls to anyone in need. The first time I met him, he pulled me aside at his grand daughter’s high school graduation party (in which the family had surprised me by making me a guest of honor too). He told me he had heard a lot about me from his daughter (my friend’s Mom) and wanted to offer me financial assistance in paying for college. I was astounded. He didn’t even know me. Though I declined his assistance, I visited him often while I lived in SF and brought him Chinese cakes and fish for his pond. We were big fans of one another.

As I walked up the stairway of the assisted living home, I felt a tremor of fear. We walked into his room. It was empty. My friend’s father told me that he had probably been wheeled to the dining room early since he took longer than the others. As we walked down the long hallway, I picked him out of the crowd from at least 12 yards away. I was warned that he was probably asleep in his chair. He had been wheeled up to a TV where a group of seniors were watching Oprah make the world a better place.

I smiled from ear to ear at the sight of him. I enthusiastically approached him. He turned and stared at me. As I got closer, his eyes twinkled and he smiled really big. What a great smile. He recognized me. I gave him a hug and wheeled him away from the TV. He was smiling, staring, and his eyes were glassy. I wondered what was wrong with his eyes. He continually scratched his arms and used one hand to assist the other in scratching his chest. His hearing was not great, so to avoid shouting, I sat close to him and spoke directly into his ear. We talked this way for a while. It was slow going, and it took a lot of effort for him to get the words out. The small talk was not important. My heart knew that human touch was the only thing he needed. Desperately.

I reassured him by keeping my arms around him as I spoke into his ear. His eyes filled with tears that flowed freely for the duration of my visit. I stopped talking and just held him as he cried. Our visit was interrupted by the announcement that his dinner was ready. I felt terrible leaving him. I gave him a hug and a kiss good bye and told him that we all loved him and thought of him often. He told me he loved me very much. I cried all the way down the hallway, down the stairs, and on my way to the medical center to alert someone about his skin irritation. I cried on the way to the bus stop. I would have cried all the way home, had I been alone. I told my friend’s dad that I felt stupid for complaining about riding in the stairwell of the bus on our way there. I thanked him for bringing me to the home. My friend’s dad told me he had never seen his father in law cry like that before.

The following day was my last day in SF. I spent it with my Mom. We went on our annual pilgrimage to our favorite dim sum place on Clement street where I bought take out for my family. I told my mom about my visit at the assisted living home. I asked her if I could stop by to bring him some pork buns and sticky rice. She was all for it. We circled the block many times, but could not find parking at the home. My mom told me she would wait in the car while I ran in. I found my way to his room. He was sleeping on a diaper pad. He scratched himself in his sleep, no one had applied his prescription salve as we requested. I could see that he was dreaming. Maybe he was dreaming about someone finally applying his damn cream.

I walked to the dining area to hand the food over to a staff member. I asked her to cut it up for his next meal. I went back to his room, hoping that he would suddenly be awake. He was still sleeping. His lips fluttered on his exhale just like you see in cartoons. There wasn’t a pen around to leave him a note. I frantically searched in my purse for something to write with. I knew my mom was waiting in the car. I couldn’t find anything to write with. Ugh. Then I heard him stir. I looked over and he was watching me with one eye open. So cute.

I rushed over and tried to give him a hug over the bed rail. Ouch. I told him I brought him some food. He was very grateful ,and quite surprised to see me again. He scratched, and we talked. He did not cry this time. He just stared at me like I was some kind of miracle. The rail dug into my stomach as I tried to hold him. I asked him if he would like some lotion for his eczema. He said yes. I searched his night table and found some cream. While he and I had never had a touchy feely relationship, I knew that I might be his only hope for relief. He stared at me in wonder the entire time that I massaged the cream into his chest. He held up his shaking arms while I applied the lotion. He never took his eyes off me. I put some cream on his face. Suddenly he reached up to touch my face. He began to say, “Youuuuuuuuuuuuu,” but was interrupted by steady gasps for air. Oh no. I’m giving him a heart attack. I told him to relax, but he kept repeating, “Youuuuuuuu,” followed by heavy breathing. I told him not to worry.

After a while he was able to get his words out perfectly, “You, are just like my wife. You are the same. She took care of me just like you. I wish they could make another one like the two of you. You are the same as her.” Whoa. I thanked him for the compliment and told him that we all missed his wife. She was so lovely and full of grace. Then, he got a look in his eye. I’ve seen this look before. But never in a situation like this. He asked, “May I kiss you?”

What would my friend from high school think? How would I explain? “Hey girl, what’s up? I went to visit your grandfather the other day. I lubed him up and made out with him while my mom waited in the car.”

I told him he could kiss me. I turned my head and pointed to my cheek. He gave me a kiss. I kissed him on the forehead and told him that my mom was waiting outside. I reminded him that he was loved and in my thoughts. I’ve never felt so out of my element but so in line with my purpose.