September 16

It's sad that all that a man is, and ever was, can be summed up to a little box. A little box that could never contain all the thoughts, emotions, love and trust that a man has. A box so cold, so solid, so unforgiving.

Just last Tuesday I called up my Nana. It was the first time that my Grandpa couldn't talk to me on the phone. Just last Tuesday he was just coughing. Just last Tuesday he was alive.

With the first ring of my telephone stinging against the walls of my cold room my week would be changed, for the worse. It was my mom, she was calling from outside of my residence room. All she said was that I had to let her in, because she had some bad news.
As soon as she said "bad news" my heart sank. My attention immediately went to my little sister Becky. I knew my mom wouldn't have driven all the way to Waterloo if it wasn't really important. My hands were shaking and I could barely breathe as I went to let her in.

Within seconds I was crying so hard that my mom thought I was going to have an asthma attack. A shower and half an hour later I was on the road with my mom to Toronto. I personally don't know how she could ahve driven all that way, especially knowing what she knew.

Mom and I went over to my nana's where there was more crying and a lot of memory sharing. I knew my grandfather had thought the world of me, and he made sure I knew every time we spoke. It may sopund selfish but I'm angry that I didn't get to hear that one last time. I would've just giggled and smiled, but now I can't remember the last time he said those things. It isn't that I never appreicated them, I just didn't think that they're end so abruptly. Anyways, the whole time we were at my Nana's she (my nana) sat in my grandfather's chair. When grandpa was alive she NEVER sat in that chair, ever. To see her glued to it was so hard, to see anyone else in that chair was hard. I used to sit on my grandpa's lap in that chair. He used to sit there with his one leg folded under him and he used to smile at me, even if it was for only the briefest moment.

When I was younger I took him for granted. I was a child and he was my grandpa. Everytime I would go visit he would play with me for the whole time. He was old but he still managed to run around with me. We used to play hide and seek, and it was always my turn to hide. We used to play catch with the ball in the hall as great-nana would shake her head. At dinner, or lunch, grandpa used to say that I didn't have to eat my dinner. He would sneak me chocolates under the table, or give me dessert even if I hadn't finished my supper. Sometimes he'd call me into the kitchen because he made jell-o for me, but instead of giving me the jell-o he used to squirt whipped cream into my mouth. Everytime we were leaving, my mom and I that is, he would slip me some money and tell me to spend it on whatever I liked no matter what mom told me to do with it. As soon as I left he went straight to the couch for a nap.

His funeral was on Wednesday, and nana had asked me to speak. I wanted so badly to speak infront of everyone. To say goodbye to my grandpa one last time, to tell him how much I appreciated him, only I knew I couldn't. I brought a poem to be read by someone other than myself...

Funeral Blues

stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
stop the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

he was my north, my south, my east and west,
my working week and my sunday rest,
my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
i thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

the stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
for nothing now can ever coem to any good.

- W.H.Auden

That's what was read on my behalf. And that's all I have to say.

***ADDED NOTE:
The grandfather that just died was my Father's father. He and my mom were divorced when I was still very young. It was also so strange how close they were to my mom. My mom even said that he was like a father to her, and I don't have a doubt in my mind that he was. I'm glad my mom allowed me to continue to see my grandparents even though things got rough, they meant, and still mean, the world to me.

While we were at the funeral my father (biological) was there as well. My mom insisted that I go say hello to him, even though this was the last thing that I needed on a day such as this. When I was very young about 6 or 7 my father made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with me and the only time I ever knew he existed was when I saw the monthly cheque for $150 come in the mail. I didn't want to look at my father let alone touch him in any way.

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