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Places everyone

2009-08-23 - 10:58 p.m.

We lost my Grandfather last week, which would imply that he's hiding, but no, he isn't. I was grateful to have gone home to see him just before he died recently and I don't know, I think somewhere in my head I thought he was going to live forever. For about 20 years he's been beating the odds out of the ends. And he was most recently sent to hospice, and then 'grew out of it', so the facility waited for a while, and then the months passed, and they invited him right back out of there. He was sent to the VA hospital, and turned 90 a few weeks ago, and then said he felt like he wanted to gamble - like maybe as a mile marker. So, most everyone was able to see him before then except for me and a few others who didn't make it for varied reasons. I called, but it wasn't the same. Some of my family was having a party for him that day, and they brought cake and stuff, but

"Grandpa!"

Speaker phone. Thanks....

"Ohhh.....someone's.... missing....you! You're.... not here...."

"Happy Birthday! Wanted to tell you I love you. Are you having fun?"

"What's the - sassodffffffrrre. Ssssssss. Dodddd?."

I heard one of my brothers repeating something about a cake to him. Like ten times.

"Hello?"

Then nothing. So the brother got back on, and I felt comforted knowing they were making a beautiful rush hour out of his hospital room.

He was truly a magical Grandpa and so easily held the title. He told us so many colorful stories when we were growing up - our family used to meet in Eisenhower Park, like way way back when everyone was still speaking. Because why wouldn't they? Not even minor disdain for one another. If they argued, it was fun, like a spirited debate that at least one of us would write about in 30 years. This was pre-prison, no one was in recovery, no hotheads we couldn't handle as a general rule, and there was an authentic and ongoing outpouring of boisterous love....it was the 70's and I remember those days like they were a series of cartoon yesterdays. It's rare that we all get to see each other anymore now, save when something really good or really bad happens, and so good luck trying to see anyone all in one room these days. (That's why some well rounded and also some crazy people do family reunions, fyi). We do factions. I belong to many of the sub-factions within my widespread full metal family unit - some of us belong to one or two or more, but I enjoy all of the pockets of people. Sometimes they spring up in twos or threes, and I think that's perfectly cool too.

I do realize that there will be a day when we'll all have been picked off one by one, like a cherry tree whose last season.....was.

Eisenhower park memory: one of my relatives was wearing an iron on t-shirt to one of the bbqs one year that said "If life is a bowl of cherries, why do I always get stuck with the pits?"

Not to be confused with that t-shirt my brother got my mom that year: A supremely clever iron-on turtle saying "Get off my case!"

So unless there's synchronized dying in 100 years, that will leave only one of us, alone, at some point in time, right? And what is that person's story going to look like?

"Yes I heard they really really loved one another. The whole lot of them. I had this great great great Grandfather who was so adored and really kind of tough when he was younger. And he personally handed every kid a 50 cent piece on holidays. Every person knew his military stories by heart, last but no less my great great great Grandmother. But then a series of things happened, and all his underlings, everyone - except a pocketful of my ancestors, ended up dividing factions. Pass the robot juice."

One of the drawbacks of moving away is that you miss a lot. You become like the absentee parent whose children begin to hate you, or maybe they don't hate you so much as they love you so painfully that they despise the notion that you would have abandoned them in their early formative years; that you could even think of withholding from them the beauty of witnessing their performances on the stage, or in the field or better still, on the floor in a perfect tantrum. I've missed a lot. But when they're gone, and he's gone, like for good - naturally, you're left with memories, recollections and & nothing much past that but little divine sparks. And that's what's been coming back to me. No, history can't be studied till it's in the past, but he is gone for good, and I would imagine the entirety of my (family remains) are feeling down in the same way, the whole ancestral centipede.

~ There was this guy, we all knew him when we were little kids- and we were intro'd to him through my Grandpa at the family outings. His name was the Man With the Big Nose, and in every story, my Grandfather would tell us how he pulled this sorry fool out of his car, beat him to a fine pulp, saving my Grandma, and then finally, all of Queens. We were lucky to have such a star in our midst and we intuited that to each other with our facial expressions and

"Ooooh! Take - him - out of the - car!"

"Man with the big nose!"

And then, some of the kids inevitably ran quickly in place while we listened to the story.

Since I remember all of the seventies, I remember how small we were, if only in relation to how super huge my Grandfather was to us, and we were always impressed by his manliness. It was awe inspiring, esp. with the added bonus of eating ice cream mixed with soda mixed with anything cooking on the 20 unmovable & reusable public bbq grills. Then we went home and forgot about each other, because if the sun always rises, why think about it?

When I went home recently, I was sure I wasn't going to see any of my family because the time frame I had was only long enough to go to my HS reunion. I debated for weeks and my husband was probably manic over having to discuss the merits of me even going one more time, but I finally decided he and the dogs would live and so would I. I was torn because I hadn't seen most of my family since my wedding, and I don't like to go home if I can't see at least all of them. So I decided to go, but only if I could make the time to see my Grandfather. I would've liked to trick myself into thinking he had another 10 years. But let's don't push it.

After shutting it all off and just heading back, I finally made it to the VA with my father, and found out that a small portion of the family pockets were going to be there that day having a pizza party for him anyway. I was crying in disbelief because why wouldn't I? Who doesn't love brilliant big-picture timing? It was perfect and beautiful and my Grandpa wasn't moving much, which I was slightly surprised at, because he was only 20% out of it the week before, when he alternately said hello to my brother's girlfriend, and then five minutes later asked her if she wanted her ass kicked.

I didn't want to watch the clock, but I had a memorial bbq to go to that day also, of some friends from years ago who had incidentally lost their daughter in that same week. Also not hiding. It was so completely sad to hear about, and it was one of those helpless days where it didn't matter what you did or said because you weren't bringing anybody back or extending anyone's life, and so you'd just as well be there and feel it with everyone. Timing! How could you not be grateful to see people you haven't seen in almost a decade? How could you not break down at the sight of every one of their faces? There are people you don't see and that you don't notice. Then there are people you don't see and when you do, everything is different yet you know it's still the same. And you feel like it's the 70's again and your family is a tireless magician.

After waffling for an hour in the cafeteria with my family, I went back in to say goodbye to my Grandpa. I got him two giant talking cards, because I wasn't sure how good his hearing was, or his eyesight, and I wasn't taking anyone's word for it. One of the cards sang Unforgettable which was his favorite song, and one time we surprised him with it at his "This is your life" party in the eighties when most of the sector was still intact. When he walked into the thing, the song starts, he cries, surprise. The other card was fairly obnoxious and said "90" in big Vegas letters on the front, and when you opened it, the woman's voice would be enough to startle a herd of anything big.

Everyone around the bed was telling him stories. His daughter and her husband live here in LA too, and they flew in to see him again. I don't think they even knew he was as close to the end as he was until that day. I was pretty mad at myself because he was ashen, not speaking and barely breathing. And it was anyone's guess how conscious he was. Until his he coughed, and his daughter asked him if he knew I was there, and he said yes. Then there was the discussion of how much time he had left. Days?

So I opened the Owen Meany card and put it near his head. A few of us jumped.

"A NINETIETH BIRTHDAY IS A REASON TO CELEBRATE!! PLEASE REMEMBER HOW VERY SPECIAL YOU ARE AND HAVE BEEN THROUGHOUT THE YEARS!! SO HERE"S TO THE HAPPIEST BIRTH-DAY AND MANY MORE!"

Slience. Smiles. It wasn't the card so much as her Oklahoma accent I didn't love a big heap. But it made me sob suddenly, all the while thinking I shouldn't, now that I knew he knew I was there. Some bedside manner. Whatever. I know he heard me. He knew I was there. He heard what I said to him and then I kissed his head for the first time and left. He was so much smaller and I felt so big, and life is just so funny like that.

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