Stresses
Today 24 years ago was the end of my childhood. The one where you can still pretend that everyone that you love will always be here, alive and part of your life.
In the morning Bill dropped me off at the Greyhound station. I could go on forever how the seams of the universe unravel on a bus, but that isn't this story. I arrived in Indianapolis and called the farm. Mrs. Kiefer answered and then passed the phone onto Grandma. Grandpa had died before I could get there. I just kept reassuring her that I would be there soon as possible. She had her friends at least there around her. The entire week before they brought her everyday to the hospital. I had spent New Years eve there and was pretty sure that Grandpa would be coming home. As I was leaving on the third to return home he grabbed my right hand and squeezed the blood out of it as never before in my entire life. His eyes looked through me but I was just a simpleton then I didn't know that he knew.
My grandpa was a lovely sweet man, he loved nature and knew all the herb lore and taught me how to read the stars, to know the clouds in the sky to tell the storms that were coming. The roots to pull up and dry to make your stomach better. He had been a railroad engineer, working his way up from a coal man. They had heavy duty men who shoveled coal into the engines to get them running. He told me the stories of the Chicago politicians who would hire trains to head into Mississippi and pay black men to come up north to vote. The trains full of bodies during the influenza outbreak that chugged non stop. The bodies were taken to fields in southern Illinois dumped out and sprinkled with lye. He showed me how to shoot and then wouldn't let me handle the gun again. He kept my grandmothers secrets and sheltered her from the world as best he could. I was the favorite and he was so very proud of me. They both were, no matter what I wanted to do with my life they blessed it. I am a vegetable gardener because of him. The color of the soil wherever I go I know how to farm it.
Today I was at services and it struck me the date. Everyone in our family dies in the first 10 days of the month. When the time came to read the Mourners Kaddish I stood up and prayed for his memory. Because of him and his kindness to me as a father, I was able to select a caring man to share my life with. Hallelujah. For me he was the shining example of what the best of mankind can be.
Called to talk to my mother, a nurse answered their home phone. At first I thought I had a wrong number as I had pressed my speed dial I asked who I was speaking to. She passed the phone to my mother who told me she was there to give her fluids. So within my familial superstition I figure so long as she makes it past today then I don't have to worry until February first.
All my life I've been wound too tight, all the springs within are always pushing out metal rivots to release. The changes of late have granted an loosening. Maybe I'm just more aware or imagining I'm doing better is the more probable. My mind has been unlocking so very many memories. All my life I've used hell hounds to herd these thoughts into black holes, blocked from light. Strange enough irony the blocking hasn't destroyed or erased any one of them. Piper dues have to be paid.
In the morning Bill dropped me off at the Greyhound station. I could go on forever how the seams of the universe unravel on a bus, but that isn't this story. I arrived in Indianapolis and called the farm. Mrs. Kiefer answered and then passed the phone onto Grandma. Grandpa had died before I could get there. I just kept reassuring her that I would be there soon as possible. She had her friends at least there around her. The entire week before they brought her everyday to the hospital. I had spent New Years eve there and was pretty sure that Grandpa would be coming home. As I was leaving on the third to return home he grabbed my right hand and squeezed the blood out of it as never before in my entire life. His eyes looked through me but I was just a simpleton then I didn't know that he knew.
My grandpa was a lovely sweet man, he loved nature and knew all the herb lore and taught me how to read the stars, to know the clouds in the sky to tell the storms that were coming. The roots to pull up and dry to make your stomach better. He had been a railroad engineer, working his way up from a coal man. They had heavy duty men who shoveled coal into the engines to get them running. He told me the stories of the Chicago politicians who would hire trains to head into Mississippi and pay black men to come up north to vote. The trains full of bodies during the influenza outbreak that chugged non stop. The bodies were taken to fields in southern Illinois dumped out and sprinkled with lye. He showed me how to shoot and then wouldn't let me handle the gun again. He kept my grandmothers secrets and sheltered her from the world as best he could. I was the favorite and he was so very proud of me. They both were, no matter what I wanted to do with my life they blessed it. I am a vegetable gardener because of him. The color of the soil wherever I go I know how to farm it.
Today I was at services and it struck me the date. Everyone in our family dies in the first 10 days of the month. When the time came to read the Mourners Kaddish I stood up and prayed for his memory. Because of him and his kindness to me as a father, I was able to select a caring man to share my life with. Hallelujah. For me he was the shining example of what the best of mankind can be.
Called to talk to my mother, a nurse answered their home phone. At first I thought I had a wrong number as I had pressed my speed dial I asked who I was speaking to. She passed the phone to my mother who told me she was there to give her fluids. So within my familial superstition I figure so long as she makes it past today then I don't have to worry until February first.
All my life I've been wound too tight, all the springs within are always pushing out metal rivots to release. The changes of late have granted an loosening. Maybe I'm just more aware or imagining I'm doing better is the more probable. My mind has been unlocking so very many memories. All my life I've used hell hounds to herd these thoughts into black holes, blocked from light. Strange enough irony the blocking hasn't destroyed or erased any one of them. Piper dues have to be paid.