my grandmother
came to me in a dream.
we sat and chatted
over amaretto sours
for ages and ages
before she asked me to pass
on a message.
tell him it's ok to go,
that you'll not be mad,
and that i miss him
terribly.
On Thursday the 19th of February
I found out that my Grandfather was dying.
They didn't think he'd make it more than two weeks.
A day later, they said it
wouldn't be more than
two days.
I went to see him yesterday.
I've been trying to process
and figure out what I feel
and make it coherent,
but I am failing miserably.
So instead, I wrote this...
| my grandfather is (not yet 'was') a terrible man. when he'd come home from work at 3am he'd wake the children up and beat them for all they did wrong while he was away. the resentment and bitterness and contempt for him still flows heavy and heated and thick through the room just like the air at the nursing home. there are pictures on the walls, of the children, relative trees, fields, jesus but not a single one of the woman he was married to for over 40 years. they brought a tree in so he could feel like he was dying in the woods like he always wanted but there is nothing absolutely nothing there to remind him of the woman he loved. when i went to visit, i wore her turquoise ring, that large oblong set of silver and the gorgeous color, that she always wore. he grabbed my hand and ran his finger over the ring. there was something in his eyes that moment, a flicker a thought a feeling that i still cannot quite grasp. memories, sadness, heartache they were there but something more much much stronger was there behind all the rest. i want to feel all that he felt that moment when he saw the ring and thought about her. i want to to take his pain take him somewhere and wash it all away. i wanted to be the one soaking a sponge in water so he could drink. my grandfather like jesus, strung up and laid out, too weak to do anything for himself. he is dying for no one's sins but his own. |
