I'm just sitting here, right now, listening to ska music. I do have to say, I am enjoying myself. All seems right with the world. It's been a while since my grandfather has passed, and I think I'm pretty much over it, as over it as I can be. I told my mother tonight that I looked at granddads situation differently. The man survived cancer once 13 years ago. He was able to get 13 more years out of his life. Most people that are that old and get cancer can't beat it, let alone beat it handily, as he so did. I think of the small graces that were given because of this. My sister wouldn't have had someone to see her frequently, I wouldn't have had a father figure growing up, two of my cousins would have never met the man that made them feel most at home. Truly, those 13 years were amazing.
As an aside, I told my friends that I would dedicate most of this post to this one, interesting and unique woman that I've enjoyed conversing with recently. Talking to her is best described as fencing hand in hand. There's a sense of close delicacy, yet the infinite joy of rapier wit. Parries and flourishes abound. I happened to have picked up coffee from the Starbucks she worked at on New Years eve, and a somewhat odd, yet enjoyable conversation followed, wherein she claimed that working on New Years Eve was punishment for being bad. I joked that I couldn't recall anything I did that was exceptionally "evil" except for that 'Angry box of kittens that I threw at those nuns.' Chuckles were had.
See, the unfortunate thing about having anxiety is that I can do the flirting, I can do the casual this-that and the other, but when it comes to following through, asking for a number, I freeze up. To put it visually, it's like running with someone, only to look up at the last second and see that there's a brick wall in front of you. How did it get there? Man, that is an impressive wall, and I swear, it came out of nowhere. I should probably not run into that wall and look like a fool right? Righ-where did she go? I guess she couldn't wait for me.
But dear sweetness, she would be a catch.
Trying to man up for it would be... probably beneficial.
Anyways, Aquabats show coming up soon. Aww yeah.
Where was I? Where am I.
Ok, so, you see, apparently everyone is under the impression that I'm a good writer. Hilarious.
Certainly this blog isn't meant to be anything awe-inspiring tonight, merely just the ramblings of the Rude Boy deliverator.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
The Dead.
The strangest thing to me about seeing my dead grandfather wasn't the fact that he was dead. It was the fact that he didn't really resemble the man that I knew growing up. I still don't believe it was really the same man. I know this is some kind of coping mechanism, a morbid, dark coping mechanism, but that's who I am. It helps me remember him for who he was. I was only here 3 months ago, and he seemed in good spirits, talkative, still agile in the mind. To see that lifeless body, it just wasn't him, you know?
In another life, my grandfather would have been a king, and not just any king, but the king that you hear about in fairy-tales. He was just, noble, kind, and caring. He was the type of king that would throw a feast for his entire kingdom, if he could, and that's what he did. He was the patriarch of our family, and with him gone, it leaves an enormous void, one that I can only hope to fill a little bit.
One of the hardest parts so far is the time of year that this all happened in. Christmas time. My mother, the sweet woman she is, has all of the Christmas decorations laid about. The tree has presents underneath it, the door has a sticker snowman on it. My mom certainly earns the nickname "Christmas Elf". It's unfortunate that this makes it all the more bittersweet. It's hard to see so much "cheer" when there is none to be had.
Relics of him lie around still, I don't envy my mother's future work at all. I can't imagine going through all this stuff and trying to decide what to sell. I'd have a hard time choosing what to throw away, what to sell, what to keep, all of it. I'd want to keep everything. He had a thing for lions, he was a Leo. He wasn't really ever into Astrology, but he liked the idea of himself being a lion, and he certainly was one. I'd probably keep everything lion related. The pictures, oh the pictures, they get harder to look at every time. Part of me wants to call his cellphone, just to hear his answering machine. To once more hear the voice that used to tell me, "Well, Hello 'Riah!" when I walked in the door. The voice that once told me that he loved me no matter what, whether I went back to college or did something else. I'm going to have trouble listening to old crooner tunes from now on, that's all he listened to.
The man raised 3 daughters to all be amazing, productive members of society. Each of whom all have their own children now, all of which turned out to be stand up people. I have no doubt in my mind that he played an instrumental part in this, mainly because when my father wasn't there, he helped raise me and my sister. I used to come over to his apartment when I was feeling down, and he would cheer me up, give me Zingers (twinkies), dispense some of his infinite wisdom, then send me truckin on home. He was truly a saint.
So now, here I am, spending the night in the room where he was last alive. Alone, as per my wishes. Not for some nostalgic factor or anything like that, but to spare my mother and her sisters from having to be down here. They're all dead tired and drained. I don't think any of them really feel anything right now. I have my heaviest armor on myself right now. It feels like my throat is going to tear itself out of my neck and run down the street screaming bloody murder.
I think I'm going to have to end this blog tonight, this is pretty much all I can muster for the evening. I have to get up tommorrow, get a suit, and go to the funeral home to finalize arrangements. My grandfather never really was one for flashy affairs, and he had everything pretty much set in place, so, all we really have to do is carry out his final wishes.
If there is a heaven Granddad, I hope you're dancing. 12/18/10
In another life, my grandfather would have been a king, and not just any king, but the king that you hear about in fairy-tales. He was just, noble, kind, and caring. He was the type of king that would throw a feast for his entire kingdom, if he could, and that's what he did. He was the patriarch of our family, and with him gone, it leaves an enormous void, one that I can only hope to fill a little bit.
One of the hardest parts so far is the time of year that this all happened in. Christmas time. My mother, the sweet woman she is, has all of the Christmas decorations laid about. The tree has presents underneath it, the door has a sticker snowman on it. My mom certainly earns the nickname "Christmas Elf". It's unfortunate that this makes it all the more bittersweet. It's hard to see so much "cheer" when there is none to be had.
Relics of him lie around still, I don't envy my mother's future work at all. I can't imagine going through all this stuff and trying to decide what to sell. I'd have a hard time choosing what to throw away, what to sell, what to keep, all of it. I'd want to keep everything. He had a thing for lions, he was a Leo. He wasn't really ever into Astrology, but he liked the idea of himself being a lion, and he certainly was one. I'd probably keep everything lion related. The pictures, oh the pictures, they get harder to look at every time. Part of me wants to call his cellphone, just to hear his answering machine. To once more hear the voice that used to tell me, "Well, Hello 'Riah!" when I walked in the door. The voice that once told me that he loved me no matter what, whether I went back to college or did something else. I'm going to have trouble listening to old crooner tunes from now on, that's all he listened to.
The man raised 3 daughters to all be amazing, productive members of society. Each of whom all have their own children now, all of which turned out to be stand up people. I have no doubt in my mind that he played an instrumental part in this, mainly because when my father wasn't there, he helped raise me and my sister. I used to come over to his apartment when I was feeling down, and he would cheer me up, give me Zingers (twinkies), dispense some of his infinite wisdom, then send me truckin on home. He was truly a saint.
So now, here I am, spending the night in the room where he was last alive. Alone, as per my wishes. Not for some nostalgic factor or anything like that, but to spare my mother and her sisters from having to be down here. They're all dead tired and drained. I don't think any of them really feel anything right now. I have my heaviest armor on myself right now. It feels like my throat is going to tear itself out of my neck and run down the street screaming bloody murder.
I think I'm going to have to end this blog tonight, this is pretty much all I can muster for the evening. I have to get up tommorrow, get a suit, and go to the funeral home to finalize arrangements. My grandfather never really was one for flashy affairs, and he had everything pretty much set in place, so, all we really have to do is carry out his final wishes.
If there is a heaven Granddad, I hope you're dancing. 12/18/10
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