Thursday, March 27, 2008

In Loving Memory


So, I’ve heard the expression "life goes on" so many times and it’s not hard to understand its meaning. Obviously, the world continues to turn regardless of the events of my life or anyone else’s. The sun comes up and goes down, the seasons blend into one another and all those other applicable clichés. And between life changing events, I forget how strange it feels when life continues as usual although things have just permanently changed in my life.

Seven and a half hours ago, my life changed again. My Grandfather, my last remaining grandparent, my favorite grandparent, my banter partner and my friend, died this morning. I don’t know for sure that it was in his sleep, but I’m going to go ahead and pretend it was. And in those seven and a half hours, life has continued to go on and it feels so strange.

After hearing the news I began with the inevitable phone calls. Rearranging the next couple of days, finding someone to do my parties, doing laundry so I have something to wear in Cleveland, figuring out transportation options. And every once in a while, while I am going about these mundane, ordinary tasks, I hear my Grandfather’s voice. I hear the way he used to call me “Dolly”. I hear the way he used to waggle his fingers at me and say “Hellooooo” in a funny voice. I hear him calling to my niece, futilely trying to capture her attention while she watched Elmo. And I stop. And I think, Poppa’s gone. And tears well. And I’m sad. And then I either succumb for a few minutes and let them fall and allow myself to really think about it, or I decide now isn’t the time and I pull my emotions back.

Part of me wonders if this is the right way to honor someone I love so much. Someone who I so admired in many ways, even while I thought him old-fashioned and sometimes got angry at the things he said. I think back to a time when I was in Jr. High or something and I got a D in Health class. Not my first D by any stretch, but for some reason, I was really worried that when Poppa knew about it, he would be very disappointed in me. So I called him and told him first, before I told my parents or anyone else. And he was sad for me but never disappointed. So when I told Mom and Dad later, it was so much easier because I knew he wasn’t angry. Shouldn’t I be inconsolable on the floor? Should I really be thinking about mailing product out to customers since I can’t deliver it as planned today? Don’t I owe him my emotions today? All of them?

I know that it’s going to probably fall to me to write something about him to say at the funeral tomorrow and that’s really what I’ve been obsessively focusing on today. I wrote something for Grandma’s funeral, but it was very organic and just came to me in a moment. All day long I’ve been worrying about what to say about this man who I shared such a deep, meaningful connection with the for the last 34 years. And all I can remember is the story about the Health class. I remember us teasing each other sure, but the last few years, those moments have been few and far between, even though I often tried to force him into kidding around with me. At this point, the words that keep coming to mind are that this is what he wanted, what he’s wanted for years. He almost literally forced himself to go, always fearing he was a burden to his family, by refusing to eat or drink for the last week or so. Although most of his awareness was gone at that point, I know there was a part of him that was throwing up his hands and crying uncle. Is that something to say at a funeral? Shouldn’t it be a celebration of his life? Part of me is so angry at him. At how he gave up on life and wallowed in misery when he could have been trying to find a life in a new way. Part of me thinks that he sank himself into this state with self-pity and fear of new things. And part of me hates myself for those last three sentences.

My flight is boarding now. I’m no closer to answers than I was when I started this tirade. But life is going on. And I can either go with it, or not. Poppa would have wanted me to go with it. I just hope he always stays with me while I go.