About eight years ago I was sitting alone in my kitchen trying to desperately decide what to make myself for dinner. My husband (who was in the Navy and once again out at sea) usually cooked and since my daughter still drank from a bottle... I was on my own. I was suddenly jerked awake from my cloud of dinner despair by the ringing of my phone. It was my father on the other end of the phone. It was strange that he was calling since he and I really didn't have a very close relationship with each other... it hasn't been until the last couple of years that we have come together and made a mends. However stunned I was with his calling... I could tell by his voice that it wasn't a "chummy" call. My grandfather had just died. I was shocked! Just the other day he was walking with my grandmother around the neighborhood... however just in the last year he had gone through a triple bypass surgery and had received a pacemaker. He was however doing fine. He was strong. However, now he was dead. My father's voice wavered with his own emotion... something that my father never showed outwardly. I could tell he loved Papa as much as I. Papa was one of those grandfathers that treat you absolutely wonderful no matter how you act. He was dapper, intelligent, loving, proud, and a wonderful friend. I remember many long talks about birds, the National Geographics he would get, or just about my little life. He would rake leaves in the Fall just so I could run and jump in them. He was essentially my second father... someone I could always turn to and know that he will love me no matter how much I'd screw up. I got off the phone with my father and found myself feeling lost and vulnerable... grieving a tremendous loss without so much as a hand to hold or a hug to caress and sooth my emotions. It would be days until I could share my loss with my husband, and I certainly didn't want my mother to realize the true extent of my own pain so to help keep her afloat and sane. I cried and reminisced... and the more I remembered the more I laughed and cried at the same time. I couldn't go home to the funeral... I didn't have the money and my husband didn't have the leave time. We both were saddened deeply and I feel at times now that it must not have happened... it just isn't real to me sometimes. I knew that I had to deal with my loss on my own... and I did. Today I remember my grandfather with my mother and we have smiles on our faces... sometimes tears roll down our cheeks. Tears of pain? Never... just tears portraying how blessed we were to be his daughter and granddaughter and how happy we are for him that he is in a better place. They are tears of joy.
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