Staring through the foggy window within my room, I observed the winter breeze at his best. As it swept through the opening between houses, it tickled it's way through the lawn, then twirled into an absent abyss of solitude, having the impact of the calm before the storm. Knowing that it would soon pick up again, I waited patiently. The moon laid crisp in the air tonight, beaming light down to this tiny patch of wind-touched lawn. It felt as if time could stand still, waiting for a traumatic tragedy to unravel, forcing this continuous time bomb into action.
Soon enough this time bomb would begin to explode into the reincarnation of my father. As he walked through, that symbol of privacy, which every teen thrives on, I noticed this troublesome look flash across his abrasive face. His eyes, so stern, lips held tight, and his forehead wrinkled, but I could tell that this had to be bigger than any mistake I could pull. No one in my mind, could make my father's emotions go through the roof.
"I just got off the phone," my father said in a tremble-some voice.
Knowing some thing was wrong, "With who?"
Clearing his throat, "Aunty Barbara, she says your Grand-dad is passing."
"Grand-dad?" I responded with a tone of bewilderment.
"Yes", he responded as he made his way to sit on my bed beside me.
I felt this sudden chill, run up my spine, and between my shoulder blades, that I involuntarily shook off. Two different thoughts collided in my mind in an overwhelming flow of confusion. Finally the first thought broke through, giving me enough time to analyze the situation and decide on my actions. A feeling of shock consumed my body with a sort of kick to the brain one gets from drinking a slushy to quickly. The knowledge of never properly meeting my Grand-dad created an infuriating, helpless, desire. My second reaction consisted of being more similar to that of my father's. The tragedy of loosing someone to this morbid beast, infested suffrage, of a situation, put a halt on all of my expectations. The expectation of which most children take for granted in this generation.
Offering a hug to my father, I could grasp the full impact of this significant event in his life. My father had never been close to Grand-dad. Those foggy details of what happened, that pulled them so far apart, remain anonymous, and all I could do was offer a shoulder for him to cope on.
Immediately he ran to the closet and began removing all of the luggage.
As he caught his breathe he said, "Pack your bag, we're going to Palestine, Texas".
And that was that.
While packing my bag, it occurred to me, "I'm actually going to see my Grand-dad?" Then my thoughts were racing to, "But what if he passes before we get there? I mean, it is an eleven hour drive. What if he can't wait? What will happen then? How would dad feel?"
Realizing that these thoughts hindered me down from packing abruptly, I put them out of my mind. "The sooner we get there, the better".
About an hour later, the family sped off down this lonely road, leading to a mysterious journey, filled with more drama than an invigorating lifetime movie. The commercials being the only thing it lacked.
Nearing Palestine, I caught myself dreaming off again. My fingers creating little drawings through the fog on the back-seat window. I thought of my Grandmother, and how she would have been. I've always imagined her as the perfect woman, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, and would have been the perfect Grandmother. From the stories I've heard and recollected, I knew or imagined that she was a tall, thin woman, that held a porcelain face. She would have had the softest, delicate touch, and a smile to illuminate the room. Her long brunette hair would fall along-side her high cheek bones framing her captivating face. However, her health had been an entirely different situation, ending her life around twenty-eight years ago.
Quickly snapping out of that intense visual, I could barely read the words, "Palestine Veteran Hospital" peer through the foggy glass. The intensity level jumped to a level ten. A sudden stillness rested among the car and an uneasy feeling erupted within me. Noticing my father prepare himself to enter the hospital, the rest of the family followed. We reached the room 3-0-9 and walked through the barrier, in which, protected us from the epitome of loss hope, and false desire.
This incomprehensive mass, of what once was a stunning man, laid across a hospital bed, but I could only picture the image of him in his coffin. Focusing on his facial features I could see the resemblance of my father, the sturdy chin, tightened lips, long angular nose, and thin hair. He had white whiskers growing out of his beard and snow white hair, going straight back. His eyes were left so barren, as if he could still sense the pain of loosing his wife. He seldom blinked, or removed his focus off of that blank-white wall. Decoding the possibilities of what he was thinking on led me to believe that this wall signified greater importance. That this wall merged the division of the dececed and of the living, creating a resolution between the two realms. In lack of a better term, a peace-offering to the dying.
Without a word he filled his lungs, and let out a sigh of relief.
In that instant he left this world, and moved on to a greater land. A land filled with hope, dreams, and most of all, the love of his life.
Although God didn't give me the chance to tie ends with my Grand-dad, I believe the lesson was greater than anything I could imagine. There is no questioning to the will of God, and the plans he holds so dearly for all of us. All we can do is follow through with His intensions and grasp these life lessons he throws out at us. I may wish from time to time, that I was given the chance to know my Grandparents, but that will never mean they aren't there for me. They watch over me, each and everyday, and assure me that in the end of all these obstacles, and all the life struggles, I will be okay.
