(no subject)
my grandpa died friday night. i held his hand that day.
i told him how we raked his leaves, and how good his yard looked.
i told him that i still play pool, even though i'm not as good as i was when i was 8,
and still know how to make lemonade from that fake lemon juice in the plastic bottle and powdered sugar.
i told him that i loved him. very much. so much more than i could spit it out into words.
and he smiled.
a man who was the gasping, tiny skeletal aftermath of a sickness even mightier than he was,
who couldn't walk, or eat, or speak, or even open his eyes to look at you, even though he always knew when you were there,
found the strength to squeeze my hand, lift it to his face to kiss it, and give me the world's most amazing smile.
it made my heart burst. the greatest smile. even with his partials in his lap.
that night, he left. and ever since, i haven't been able to feel. i don't if it's because it isn't real yet,
like i'm watching my life happen to someone else, or because for the first time i could see it coming.
and i got the chance to say goodbye, to have him hear me say "i love you."
or maybe because even though he was way too young, and too great, and too big of heart and spirit and life to leave this world,
this was finally the end to his unimaginable suffering. he can finally breathe now.
and in a way, so can i.
because, even though I always thought it would be unbearable to even think of him at all if something were to happen to him,
it's exactly the opposite. whenever i feel like i can't take this anymore, that i can't get out of bed for another one of these days,
i just think of him, sitting at the end of his bar, drinking scotch and water on the rocks, benny goodman slurred in the cigar smoke,
and everything else just goes away. he gave me, my family, so much love and happiness. and he always will.
i don't see any reason why the joy he gives me should stop with his breath.
it's weird. everytime i drive through downtown, past the harbor, and all those massive ships, i see him.
i see him at the helm, in a paisley smoking jacket and slippers, drink in hand, his face opened up from ear to ear in that incredible smile.
he's wild eyed and laughing with his whole body, the wind filling the sails and his lungs like big fat balloons.
i see him sailing off to where the sky meets the sea, into a sunset, to some great adventure; to his story book fate.
i see him going out the way he should have. the way that heroes are supposed to.
god, i'll miss you, paw paw.