After the 'birthday girl' opened her gifts, Janie handed out a manila folder to each of us along with a little gift bag of chotchkies - wicked sweet. Inside the folder was a write-up of my grandfather (my mom's dad) from my mother's twin sister (Aunt Beverly) and a copy of a painting from my grandfather.

This is where this week's story begins...

While I am the oldest granddaughter, my cousin Johnny, Aunt June's eldest son, is the oldest grandson. When Johnny was learning to say "Grampie' his 'Gs' became 'Bs' and so Grampie become Bampie. 

For as long as I have known him, Bampie has lived at the Spaulding Rehab Hospital in Boston. You see, my grandpa was a quadriplegic. 

I used to visit him every Sunday with my clarinet in hand. I loved how he would listen to me play for hours (with his hospital door closed). No one outside of band had that degree of acoustic stamina and patience. After the concert we would just hang out and chat about everything. 

I LOVED my grandpa and was so heartbroken when he passed away, that was 42 years ago. 

This is my grandpa as a young immigrant boy from Greece

Reading what my Aunt Beverly wrote about her dad, my granddad, was like being pulled back in time.  As a child I saw and knew my grandpa through the eyes of a child; now I saw him and began to understand him through the eyes of an adult, a woman, a mother, a daughter, a healthcare professional and an activist.

I always knew my grandpa was an amazing man from stories my mom and my aunts would share with us but those 3 paragraphs written by my aunt summarizing his life since the accident, well that was something else. 

At the age of 49 my grandpa, a talented builder, architect and artist was the victim of a construction accident that rendered him a quadriplegic, devastating his life and the lives of his wife and children. Despite this incredibly traumatic event, my grandpa "executed relentless courage and the will to survive with dignity in the face of overwhelming adversities" (from my Aunt Bev). He spent the next 24 years of his life in the hospital and/or the rehab facility. He survived multiple bouts of pneumonia and endured excruciating pressure ulcers as well as a whole host of other injuries and indignities as he was totally dependent and at the mercy of others.

I don't know if you have had any experience in adult healthcare, but imagine what it must be like to rely solely on another person for absolutely EVERYTHING - to be fed, to be cleaned, to be moved and repositioned, to have your teeth brushed, your hair combed, your face shaved and SO MUCH MORE!! 

My grandpa spoke out loudly against care that was not respectful, compassionate, or kind. He strove for independence to the point where he actually devised a special eating tool that would allow him to feed himself by using his extremely limited shoulder movements. His medical team actually had him speak on grand rounds numerous times about the complex, multifaceted effects of catastrophic injury and illness. 

During this challenging part of his life he became a sales rep for New England Brick, a company he had done business with when he was a builder and he even became a licensed Massachusetts Real Estate Broker. 

My grandpa was UNSTOPPABLE!

But I think the thing that exemplified his will and passion, his determination and desire for independence and his need to be seen as a whole, fully alive and creative soul was his painting. An incredibly talented artist who worked extensively in charcoal before his accident, the heart and soul of the artist beat furiously within his paralyzed shell of a body and he was not about to let that integral part of his being languish.

This painting in watercolor was done by my grandpa by holding an artist's paintbrush between his teeth to create this masterpiece; a laborious task that took him several days to complete.

"The Rose painting clearly demonstrates what one can accomplish, if one has the will and the courage to do so when the task at hand is overwhelmingly difficult." - Aunt Beverly

Thinking about my grandpa now, in the light of being trauma informed brings new depth and meaning to the incredible profundity of this work. To be trauma informed is more than understanding how one's story impacts one's life. It's about understanding the magnitude of impact one can have on another's life, heart and soul; on another's deep and fathomless humanity. It's about seeing the 'face of god' in another's suffering and accepting the invitation to show up as your best loving and compassionate self. Yes, one may falter, that is our human nature, but also within our human nature is the capacity to forgive self and show up again, with more compassion, more humility and more love! 

Thanks for reading me.

Take care and care well,

Mary