Two shirts, two handkerchiefs, a picture, a memorial card, and a newspaper. All inside a bag labeled dionne-no idea what the name even represents, probably some type of business. All the items belonged to grandpa. I brought them back with me after flying overseas for his funeral.
I have his picture in my house and other items that belonged to him (which also came back inside the same bag), but these are different.. these are the skeletons in my closet.
I opened my closet everyday to get clothes or shoes. The bag stares me right in the face everyday and never really bothers me that much, well, at least until I open it. I have been kinda in a funk lately, so I decided to do some closet organizing (thought it would make me feel better) and the bag needed to be moved to place items next to it. I sat down on my bed with the bag next to me and for a few seconds contemplated whether or not I should open it. Well, you guessed it.. and it was a bit of tear fest.
I was four and half months pregnant with Special K when I received the phone call that I dreaded the most.. Grandpa was dead! Just like that... dropped dead! No signs of illness at all, no foul play, no hospital stay, no warning signs. Grandpa was just plain dead.
Beyond all the unanswered questions, and all the whys, and all the anger... there was this immense feeling of unfairness. A feeling of "but there should have been more"...more time, more laughs, more smiles. A feeling of undone business. A feeling of UNREAL! This could not be happening, this is all a bad dream... not this, not now!! But he was maybe a month away from being here with us for Little V's 1st birthday and to meet her... But he was going to be here when Special K made his arrival... He was going to be here for the holidays this year!
I know everyone loves their grandpa and grandma, at least most people do, and their death is always very hard to accept. Letting go of all the memories you shared is oh so difficult. I, too, shared many MANY happy moments with grandpa. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to swim, he was there to hand me off to the doctors for my open heart surgery, he was there when I left to go live far away from him, he was there even when I wasn't. Growing up living next to him was so much fun and back then it seemed so natural and so casual. We played outside all the time and grandpa was always around, we spent many Christmas together, many Easters, many milestones.
I always had a "thing" for him. He was so special to me even as a kid, never even knew why for a long time. He just was! As I grew older and got to know him, to really know grandpa, then I understood. I loved him for his generosity, his caring way, his ultimate fairness-with Everything and everyone, his cute smiling eyes, his determination, his energy, his work ethic, his smile.. oh his smile, the way he loved, and most of all I loved him for his undying will to live. His will to live despite the worst of times, the cruelest of times.
Life wasn't easy on grandpa. Staying by himself to build a life, at 15 or so when his family(parents and all his siblings) left to seek a better life in another country. He stayed because he loved and wanted to marry this woman, the woman who would become my grandmother. And the same woman who died tragically at the age of 40, leaving him behind with two kids to raise and his everlasting love for her. Going through the loss of both of his parents. Remarrying later to another woman who would give him another child. That same woman who got sick and who also left grandpa way too early at the same time as his daughter who suffered a stroke at age 51 who is now partly paralyzed and a ton of other health issues, and all he can do was watch in desperation. That woman is my mother.
Grandpa left this world suddenly and in the most fucked up way. He left behind three children, one of which lost his mom and dad within six months, three grand kids, one great grand kid- whom he had not met yet, one great grand kid who would have been born less than 3 months after he had left us, and yet another great grand kid who will be here soon as well. He left all this happiness behind for us to try to deal with without him. He left the happiness we all wanted to share with him so bad. It was his time to see some good, some joy. It was our time, after much pain and suffering, to share something so extraordinary. It was what he always wanted. But instead, it was just his time... to go.
I am now left with the shirts, the handkerchiefs that have his lingering smell still. I am left with all the pictures, and other things that remind me of him. I am now left with a child that will never know how truly amazing his great grandpa was. I am left with a whole lot of great memories... the same great memories that make this that much harder to accept. Letting go of great memories knowing that the same memories will never be made again. We are left with the everlasting pleasure of knowing grandpa, to have known such a wonderful person. We are left with a small glass that he drank his own home-made wine from, probably every single day. My husband now drinks from it.
I am left with a Ripped Hat that he wore since I could remember as a child... a ripped hat that would have many stories to tell if it could talk...stories I would never get tired of listening to!
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