During this time, I packed my things in preparation to move back home, and I packed as many of my grandmothers things as I could possibly save from the trash as this "woman" systematically began destroying anything my grandmother had ever touched and alienating his children and grandchildren so that she could isolate and control him.
The details are unimportant at this point. The main thrust is that we had almost no contact with my grandfather for ten years, and always feared that we would never know if or when he died (and whether she had hastened his demise). Then, a month or so ago, we got a panicked phone call from the "woman" telling us that Papa had cancer and would be gone in a matter of weeks (all false, he hadn't even had tests yet, and all the tests he then had came back negative for cancer, praise God!). Well, whatever the "woman's" intentions may have been in calling us, she got the very thing she surely didn't want and the family was fighting to get back in his life. Frankly, we had had enough and we wanted him back.
Two weeks ago, my parents and my aunts met him and the "woman" for lunch, and my dad (Papa's oldest son) managed to get him alone long enough to tell him that if he wanted out, we had a bedroom for him and he was welcome to come for a visit or to come forever if he wanted.
My aunts monitor the "woman's" social media, because we figured a long time ago that the only way we'd ever know if something happened to him would be if she posted about it online. After a particularly nasty and (we knew for certain) untrue status accusing him of hurting her, it was really the final straw for the family. My aunt called him, told him about the status, and he finally decided that he'd had enough too. He asked if we could come and get him.
Good Friday, we piled into our largest vehicles and drove up to get him. Brad even offered to don his Storm Trooper armor and assist (we decided that he should leave it home, but he came to help anyway). Operation Free Tom was fully underway, the family adopting a do-or-die attitude about rescuing our Papa. Jerry Springer-style screaming hissy fit from the "woman" and the welcome presence of the county Sheriff aside, we took what few things from the house that he wanted and got him out in under an hour.
He's home, he's happy, he's getting back to health, and most importantly, he is in the arms of the family that loves him (and he will never be beaten with a rolling pin again!). He already looks less like an emaciated cancer patient (he's still far too skinny, but we'll work on that) and more like the man I grew up with. He laugh, smiles, makes jokes, and you can see day-by-day the stress melting off of him and the jovial man of faith returning to himself.
