Thursday, June 29, 2006
14 Years
14 years ago yesterday my grandfather passed away. As a diabetic, he did not watch his diet too much, and died of a double heart-attack on the evening of the same day that we came to visit them in their mobile home on the countryside. We usually never visited there too much, but for some reason on that day my mom insisted we go and was not to be calmed down when she met our resistance.
So we went.
That same night, back in the city, the first heart attack struck him in the bathtub, and the second and final one later in the hospital that he had been rushed to. The story goes that he died in the middle of telling the nurse a joke, before he could even get to the pointe - but I don't know how much of this is truth, and how much is comforting embellishment. He was only 62 years old.
I will never forget the looks on my parents' faces when they gently woke us up the next morning to tell us. I was 13, my sister was 10. I remember the funeral, and how my grandmother almost collapsed into the open grave. She had to be supported by her son and son-in-law. The family pretty much fell apart after that. Not that there ever was much contact before that, but whatever little there was, my grandfather made efforts to keep together. My grandmother could never care less, and 14 years later we are all strangers for the most part. My cousin and I only recently found our ways back to each other, and a friendship between us is redeveloping. I am very grateful for this.
The times I have been to his grave in those 14 years I can count on one hand. I am not very good with handling graveyards. But when The Fiancé came here with me, I made the effort to take him to my grandfather's grave, and I introduced my future husband to him there. I went down on my knees, stroked the soft green grass on the grave, and imagined that he has heard my every word, and that he will be there for our wedding when we say our I do's.
I have introduced The Fiancé to my dead grandfather but never once to my living grandmother.
Things may have been different in this family if he wouldn't have passed on so soon. I didn't get a chance to develop an adult relationship with my grandfather the way I am blessed with my other grandparents, and about that I am very sad. Still, I do feel like he is still around, that he has been for all these years. I am certain of this. As long as there is someone to love and remember them in life, as long they will be with us in spirit. He comforts me in my dreams when I least expect it yet need it the most. I have proof that it really is him, and not a simple dream image concocted by my subconscience, and if you ask me I will tell you.
I still mourn his passing, mostly that I didn't get to have more time to get to know the person he really was beyond "grandpa". I am a grown-up woman now, about to get married and thinking about having my first child with the man I love more than life. I did not get to share this with him, he got to see me last as a 13 year old girl.
The details of his image have long since faded, but the affection is still there. In my dreams he comes back to me with in all his detail, starting from the one strand of black hair that always fell into his forehead, to his broad and grandfatherly smile, right down to his large belly with the humungous scar where he had cancer surgery many years before his death. As a child I would press my cheek against this belly, and could barely reach around him at all.
I remember him as a strong and healthy man. His black hair had started to fade into salt & pepper, but never had a chance to turn completely white. His heart attack was a shock to all of us. But in a way, it saved me from watching him wilt and fade away the way I do now with my living grandfather, and I will always remember him the way he looked at 62. It is the most painful thing I ever had to endure, watching the people I love most move steadily towards the inevitable. My remaining grandfather is but a shadow of his old self, he is getting visibly weaker with every week. He is now 83 years old, a frail and senile old man. A frail and senile old man who I love so goddamn much and would give everything for - him and my grandma - to keep them in my life forever.
Thinking about and reflecting upon Grandpa Erich's untimely death 14 years ago almost to the day makes me appreciate even more than I usually do how blessed I am with Grandpa Walter and Grandma Hermi still in my life, with hopefully a few more years to go. They got to see me grow into the woman I am now, and when they pass on I will take comfort in the knowledge that they knew the person I turned out to be, and were so proud of that person. Prouder of me than anybody else in my life has ever been of me. If there was one thing I could wish for, then it would be for them to be around long enough to also know that I became a mother, that I passed their genes onto a new generation. It is a gift I want to make them, because I know it is one of their dearest wishes.
Unfortunately, I have no such sentiments about Grandpa Erich's wife, but such is life. Things may have been different in this family if he wouldn't have passed on so soon.
So we went.
That same night, back in the city, the first heart attack struck him in the bathtub, and the second and final one later in the hospital that he had been rushed to. The story goes that he died in the middle of telling the nurse a joke, before he could even get to the pointe - but I don't know how much of this is truth, and how much is comforting embellishment. He was only 62 years old.
I will never forget the looks on my parents' faces when they gently woke us up the next morning to tell us. I was 13, my sister was 10. I remember the funeral, and how my grandmother almost collapsed into the open grave. She had to be supported by her son and son-in-law. The family pretty much fell apart after that. Not that there ever was much contact before that, but whatever little there was, my grandfather made efforts to keep together. My grandmother could never care less, and 14 years later we are all strangers for the most part. My cousin and I only recently found our ways back to each other, and a friendship between us is redeveloping. I am very grateful for this.
The times I have been to his grave in those 14 years I can count on one hand. I am not very good with handling graveyards. But when The Fiancé came here with me, I made the effort to take him to my grandfather's grave, and I introduced my future husband to him there. I went down on my knees, stroked the soft green grass on the grave, and imagined that he has heard my every word, and that he will be there for our wedding when we say our I do's.
I have introduced The Fiancé to my dead grandfather but never once to my living grandmother.
Things may have been different in this family if he wouldn't have passed on so soon. I didn't get a chance to develop an adult relationship with my grandfather the way I am blessed with my other grandparents, and about that I am very sad. Still, I do feel like he is still around, that he has been for all these years. I am certain of this. As long as there is someone to love and remember them in life, as long they will be with us in spirit. He comforts me in my dreams when I least expect it yet need it the most. I have proof that it really is him, and not a simple dream image concocted by my subconscience, and if you ask me I will tell you.
I still mourn his passing, mostly that I didn't get to have more time to get to know the person he really was beyond "grandpa". I am a grown-up woman now, about to get married and thinking about having my first child with the man I love more than life. I did not get to share this with him, he got to see me last as a 13 year old girl.
The details of his image have long since faded, but the affection is still there. In my dreams he comes back to me with in all his detail, starting from the one strand of black hair that always fell into his forehead, to his broad and grandfatherly smile, right down to his large belly with the humungous scar where he had cancer surgery many years before his death. As a child I would press my cheek against this belly, and could barely reach around him at all.
I remember him as a strong and healthy man. His black hair had started to fade into salt & pepper, but never had a chance to turn completely white. His heart attack was a shock to all of us. But in a way, it saved me from watching him wilt and fade away the way I do now with my living grandfather, and I will always remember him the way he looked at 62. It is the most painful thing I ever had to endure, watching the people I love most move steadily towards the inevitable. My remaining grandfather is but a shadow of his old self, he is getting visibly weaker with every week. He is now 83 years old, a frail and senile old man. A frail and senile old man who I love so goddamn much and would give everything for - him and my grandma - to keep them in my life forever.
Thinking about and reflecting upon Grandpa Erich's untimely death 14 years ago almost to the day makes me appreciate even more than I usually do how blessed I am with Grandpa Walter and Grandma Hermi still in my life, with hopefully a few more years to go. They got to see me grow into the woman I am now, and when they pass on I will take comfort in the knowledge that they knew the person I turned out to be, and were so proud of that person. Prouder of me than anybody else in my life has ever been of me. If there was one thing I could wish for, then it would be for them to be around long enough to also know that I became a mother, that I passed their genes onto a new generation. It is a gift I want to make them, because I know it is one of their dearest wishes.
Unfortunately, I have no such sentiments about Grandpa Erich's wife, but such is life. Things may have been different in this family if he wouldn't have passed on so soon.
