My grandpa died.
I woke up to my grandma's voice on the answering machine. At such an early hour I was unable to make out what she was saying. But somehow I knew. I knew she called to say someone has passed. At first I thought it was my ill aunt, I was sure of it. Not long after my mom called my cell phone over and over, leaving messages. I knew then it was more serious.
I haven't seen my grandpa since the seventh grade. He wasn't the best man which is why my mom pushed him away from our family. But all in all he was still my grandfather and I only knew him as such. Treating me like a princess, giving me anything and everything I'd want and letting me make my own rules. If he was nothing more than a bad man atleast I know in my heart he was a good grandfather.
My mom easily opened up to me her puzzeled thoughts. She didn't know how to react. I felt guilty feeling any amount of sadness to a man who hurt her so much, so I hid my tears.
We knew he was going to die. He's told us for years he was dying but we always saw it as an excuse to rekindle our family. That's where the guilt sank in. He was nothing but good to me and he died without his only grandchild in his life. With a grudge over his head and regrets in his heart. No one should leave this world like that, not even the worst of men.
We drove up north, where he had always lived. When I was a kid there was nothing more I loved than visiting the small towns he'd lived in and the peaceful drive up. I used to lay in the backseat of my mom's car on the way there or back home, looking out the window at the constant passing of trees and stars and felt nothing but safety and warmth. But this time as I lay in the trunk of the SUV there were no stars. I could barely make out the trees in the night. There was nothing but darkness and the dim light of my iPod. Memories flooded my mind of my grandfather. Trips, houses, Christmases. The "steps", the machine car we drove down the stairs, dressing up like Santa, Shirly Temple, camping, so many memories.
Then we went to his house. And I could smell him again. And it was all so much more real that he was gone. His funeral was strictly family only. Every single one of us shared the same phrase, "I haven't seen you in like, 10 years!". It was hardest seeing my uncle David who looks identical to my grandfather. But the greatest part was finally making peace with everyone. I think in a way we made peace with my grandpa as well, as his wife implied.
On the drive home I felt empty. I looked out the window at the constant trails of snow. The sparkling white sheet was untouched and beautiful laying over the dead grass. It was symbolic to me that something so beautiful could be above the dead. As I spoke with my family on the 2 and a half hour drive home I was happy to close this chapter in my life. Happy to say goodbye to that family, up north and my grandpa.
I'd like to add my gratefulness to those there for me. Unconditionally I had my best friend there for me with hugs, laughs, food and advice. As always I had my pink shoe to help me through it, tears and all.
I haven't seen my grandpa since the seventh grade. He wasn't the best man which is why my mom pushed him away from our family. But all in all he was still my grandfather and I only knew him as such. Treating me like a princess, giving me anything and everything I'd want and letting me make my own rules. If he was nothing more than a bad man atleast I know in my heart he was a good grandfather.
My mom easily opened up to me her puzzeled thoughts. She didn't know how to react. I felt guilty feeling any amount of sadness to a man who hurt her so much, so I hid my tears.
We knew he was going to die. He's told us for years he was dying but we always saw it as an excuse to rekindle our family. That's where the guilt sank in. He was nothing but good to me and he died without his only grandchild in his life. With a grudge over his head and regrets in his heart. No one should leave this world like that, not even the worst of men.
We drove up north, where he had always lived. When I was a kid there was nothing more I loved than visiting the small towns he'd lived in and the peaceful drive up. I used to lay in the backseat of my mom's car on the way there or back home, looking out the window at the constant passing of trees and stars and felt nothing but safety and warmth. But this time as I lay in the trunk of the SUV there were no stars. I could barely make out the trees in the night. There was nothing but darkness and the dim light of my iPod. Memories flooded my mind of my grandfather. Trips, houses, Christmases. The "steps", the machine car we drove down the stairs, dressing up like Santa, Shirly Temple, camping, so many memories.
Then we went to his house. And I could smell him again. And it was all so much more real that he was gone. His funeral was strictly family only. Every single one of us shared the same phrase, "I haven't seen you in like, 10 years!". It was hardest seeing my uncle David who looks identical to my grandfather. But the greatest part was finally making peace with everyone. I think in a way we made peace with my grandpa as well, as his wife implied.
On the drive home I felt empty. I looked out the window at the constant trails of snow. The sparkling white sheet was untouched and beautiful laying over the dead grass. It was symbolic to me that something so beautiful could be above the dead. As I spoke with my family on the 2 and a half hour drive home I was happy to close this chapter in my life. Happy to say goodbye to that family, up north and my grandpa.
I'd like to add my gratefulness to those there for me. Unconditionally I had my best friend there for me with hugs, laughs, food and advice. As always I had my pink shoe to help me through it, tears and all.