My Grandfather
My grandfather died today.
My Mother called me on the phone to let me know and less than 20 seconds into the call she had to put the phone down, so all I got was “I’m just calling to let you know, my grandfather passed—oh wait I have to take this, I’ll call back.” and then she put the phone down on me.
So for eight minutes I sat there, with Jess, waiting for a phone call back until eventually the phone rang again.
He passed quickly. He was with my grandmother and his carers. They were on the phone with my mum when it happened. I was ok until my mum sounded distraught over the phone. Sanguine. Calm. Until this point, it was just a thing that happened. But when I heard my mum was upset, that's when I felt it.
My grandfather was a truly wonderful man. I know every body gets airbrushed in death, but I don't need to take any such measures with him. He was so loving and so funny. His relationship with my grandmother is the one that I model my relationship with Jess on. Constant care, unending love, and a lot of gentle ribbing.
Once my mum and I finished our call, Jess asked if there was anything she could do for me. I couldn't think of anything. But she got me an ice cream on a stick. It was very small. We laughed at how ridiculously small the ice cream was and how silly it was to be eating ice cream. It was ridiculous. But when someone close to you dies, everything is ridiculous. For a while, nothing is normal.
After we finished our ice cream, we had a cup of tea and then we sat there. I debated making bagels. I'm still debating making bagels. My grandparents are Jewish and apparently, in the Jewish tradition, on the day of the funeral the mourners do not eat food they have made. I don't know why, but that broke me a bit. It's such a moment of care. Don't make your own food. Let other people take care of you. That is what Judaism asks of you. Let the community care for you.
Eventually we were told we could visit. So we went over. my grandfather was still there. I hugged everyone present, save the doctor, who was going about doing his job. I held them close. I gave them a reassuring squeeze. Tears wet the collar of my shirt as they laid their heads against it.
When I was very young, there was some small part of me that wondered if my grandparents were really deaf. that maybe if I picked the right moment and yelled really loudly I would be able to startle them and catch them pretending. It just felt wrong that I could be as loud as I wanted and that they wouldn't be able to hear me.
That same part of me wondered if I yelled suddenly and loudly if I could startle my dead grandfather back to life. Probably quite an unpleasant way to come back to life, were it to happen.
I didn't do it.
my grandmother was all worried and movement. Always on the move, looking for something. When eventually she sat down, I held her hand. I asked if she was ok. It's a stupid question. I knew it was a stupid question. Her husband had just died and he lay a few feet from us. All she said is "I just want to talk to him. I'm worried he's cold."
And so we decided to put his gloves and his hat on him. My aunt put on one glove. I put on the other. It was awkward work. And he was cold.
We tucked him in anyway. We do these odd things not for him, but for us. We do these things to make the dead look peaceful so the living can have peace.
My grandmother found another hat for him. But he was already wearing a hat. So she gave it to me. I put it on and asked her how I looked. She smiled and told me to keep it. To remember him by.
My grandfather died today. He was 93 years old and I love him so much. I shall cherish the memories of him. His penchant for miming. His inimitable sense of humour. His beautiful carefree smile. And his deep love for me, for his family, and especially for his wife.