Dear Gramps |
| Dear Gramps,
I'm going to walk my dog this afternoon with the leash my dad found in one of your boxes. Why did you have a brand new leash? You didn't have a dog.
I like looking at the pictures of you that I framed -- the one of you and Grandmama that sits on my night table, where you're both lounging on a motel room bed, looking relaxed and happy, and the one of you as a little boy, maybe four or five, in a sailor suit, standing next to your floppy-eared dog. I guess you did have a dog once.
Every Sunday, I ask my dad what he's doing, and I expect him to answer, "I'm going to visit The Ancient One." That's what he called you sometimes -- did you know that? But he never says it.
An elderly gentleman walked up to my table outside the coffee shop this weekend and asked me, "Excuse me, but where the hell am I?" I told him the name of the coffee shop. He looked around at the young people reading or studying over coffee, and he said, "What, is this some kind of a learning center?" He presented a city map and asked me to point out where he was and where he needed to go. He had on a brown tweed suit and he wore a hat and walked with a cane. He reminded me of you.
I still haven't seen Magnolia. I heard it has a dying old man in it. I think I won't see it for a while. But I love the soundtrack. Do you remember when I used to make you mix tapes? Do you remember how I brought the tape of Mardi Gras music to the hospital, so we could listen to it in the emergency room?
I saw Pete Fountain on the news Mardi Gras evening. There he was, with his Half-Fast Marching Band, after all these years. Remember how you loved him, and Al Hirt?
My parents gave me the singing sunflower -- you know, the one you bought at Walgreen's that has a lit-up smiley face that opens and closes its mouth and sings "You Are My Sunshine"? You always bought crazy things like that. My sister asked for the toilet bank. The one that actually makes a flushing sound when you deposit the money. I remember when you put that on your answering machine right after your outgoing message. You loved being silly.
Remember when Princess Diana died, and I got so irritated with you for doodling on the Vanity Fair magazine cover with her picture? You felt so bad that you bought me a hardback book about her. I'm sorry. That was wrong of me. I shouldn't have cared about a stupid magazine.
I'm sorry I didn't visit or call as often as I should have. I'm sorry I wasn't there for everyone's final visit because I was stuck at the crowded car wash place. I'm sorry that I never really said goodbye.
I hope that if there is such a place as heaven, you are there with Grandmama, and your parents and brothers and sisters and hers. I know part of you went with her fifteen years ago, but I loved the part of you that stayed behind. I know that you really loved me, too. I loved when you would hug me hello and say, "That's my girl."
I think about you all the time.
© Copyright 2000 By Secret and Divine Signs |
