Location via proxy:   [ UP ]  
[Report a bug]   [Manage cookies]                

Gramps

2019

Lessons from a Bastard

“Gramps! Did you read the news? Last week a team of scuba divers found a sunken U-587 off the coast of Norway with 62 DEAD NAZIS trapped inside. And you know what they did? Left them there to rot!” The thing I miss the most about my grandfather is watching the way his eyes would change color and shape and form into two glistening round pools of clear cerulean blue, whenever something fascinated him, piqued his brilliant mind’s interest or left him thirsty with curiosity to know more, as much as possible – know it all. The same way people occasionally tell me mine look now. Because now it’s just me, here, alone, and having to a secret shared only amongst oneself is one of the loneliest feelings in the world. Only my grandfather and I knew that no matter how many hours we spent in the woods collecting fossils, or how many dozens of hours we spent staring all sorts of diseased cells under his microscope while he taught me the art of pathology – our eyes would only change as I watched him shrink as I drove away in the third seat of my parents station wagon. “Nazis? I HATE Nazis! Fuck Hitler! You always have the best news to share with me, Kyle. You have always been my favorite –” All I heard was a SNAP before my laptop screen went black. And now I know that feeling in my gut was my gut feeling that that would be the last time I would ever see my grandfather in my life. Because it was. I don’t like scary movies, I don’t like horror stories. Since that day, whenever I hear the term ‘horror story’ – I have watched that same seen playing over and over again on repeat in my brain until it brought me to my knees in tears. I have had to watch that over and over again, a thousand million times over the last 5 years, in order to get through writing this now. I laugh as a cry because I think of my grandfather watching the gobs of snot spewing out of my nostrils onto my wireless keyboard from heaven, and the way my first instinct is to ameliorate the situation by blowing a snot rocket…onto my bedroom floor. It’s my forest now, where I go and hide alone for hours and think of all the ways he was my favorite too – until I feel every hair follicle on my entire body stand at its end. That’s how I know he’s with me, thinking of his own ways, too.