Late last night, I got a text from my Dad. There was something he needed to talk about and after waking up to a 4:30 am call time, call me crazy, but I did not feel like texting. So, I quickly grabbed my phone, tapped out a quick "I'll call u tmrw morning," and punched the power-off button. When I woke up, I turned on my phone and waited as it buzzed its "4 new messages." I clicked my inbox and saw that besides some 3 am call from my crazed faux-Korean sister, they were all from my dad. I worried and opened the first text. "Your grandfather is in the icu at the VA" (for those of you that don't know, it's the Kentucky Veteran's Hospital) "they admitted him late last night and he's taken a turn for the worse. The doctors are giving him 24 - 48 hours. If you would like to see him, call me, and I will pick you up. I already got in touch with your cousin A and she said she would like to have that chance." Really? I know he's my grandpa but I haven't (and neither has my cousin A) seen him in 14 years. He doesn't know my name nor A's and he has never been apart of my life. So, I was, first, taken aback that she would want anything to do with a grandfather that had never been a "grandfather" to us. My last memory of him was from my sixth Christmas. My uncle (also A's estranged father) drove us out to my grandfather's house where he greeted us, not by name, because he never cared to remember them, and proceeded to hand us each a container of "10 year past-the-expiration-date" chocolate covered nuts. Flash-back to today and I thought, "Am I supposed to be upset about this news?" I can't even remember his face. My mom said my dad looks a lot like him and all I could think was "Really? He does? huh." For one brief second I thought "Maybe I should go, just to see if Dad really does look like him." But I didn't.
when I thought I had gathered the stomach, I texted him "I don't think I can go. Death doesn't set well with me and I think it would upset me too much." My Dad was fine with my answer, saying he "understood," and he texted me telling me he would keep me up-to-date. So, all day, I've been avoiding thinking about this. This death. So final. Like death was a period. The end, over- gone, done. Period. It's sad I think, that these day in times, people, families, let things come between them. Empty phone-calls. Angered emotion. Pride. And years pass and the space, the lost memories, grow and they too become final. They seal these emotions and then one day, you wake up and your 90 years old and you don't know your children and your grand-children, and its too late. It's over. Period.
The last I heard, my grandfather was still there, alive, waiting it out. Waiting for death. And here I am, driving to a city for dinner with the fam and I think, "Well, I guess I need to find a black dress." Just like that. That thought so simple, and void of emotion, of connection. Because of this man. A man who I share blood but not my life, not my memories. A man who made a lot of mistakes. A WHOLE lot. Period.
