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I got stuck late at work today, so I decided to treat myself to some Chipotle before heading home. I had just finished vacuuming up the remainder of my corn salsa and guacamole when Kristian called. I thought that he was calling to see why I was so late. But no.
He was calling to tell me that someone had broken into our house and stolen a bunch of our stuff.
I had this funny idea that 2012 was going to be my year, but so far it’s not impressing me. I’m just returning to some semblance of normalcy after losing my Grandpa and some cretin(s) had to go and make things worse. I know it’s just stuff, but goddammit it was my stuff. And I liked it. Plus, there’s that whole creepy “somebody ransacked my house and rifled through everything” with an added dash of “ewwwww, they went into my underwear drawer.”
Most of what they stole was stuff that can be replaced (how easily it can be replaced is up for debate, I’m holding out hope for insurance covering some of it). But those bastards had to go and steal my charm bracelet. A bracelet that my Grandparents gave me. That had charms that my Grandpa bought for my Grandmother over the years. Sentimental value: 100 million trillion billion dollars. I knew from the moment that Kristian told me about the robbery that they had probably stolen all of the jewelry that he ever bought me (which they did). But when I realized that they took my charm bracelet, I cried like a baby.
The good news? If they ever get caught with the bracelet, one of the charms has my name and birthday on it. And there’s even a second, seperate charm that’s identical (Grandpa bought one for Grandma and one for his mother and I had them both). To which I say, “Seriously thieves? You couldn’t have left one of them?” So, if you happen to be in a pawn shop or on Craigslist and you see a silver charm bracelet with the following charms: “Hope 9-8-81,” a cottage, a computer, a camera and some other charms that I’m probably forgetting…. well punch the person who’s hawking it in the face for me, woulda? And then sit on them and don’t get up until the cops show up.
So far, 2012, you’re not doing much to impress me. Shape up or ship out, because I’m putting you on notice.
My brother-in-law, Dustin, put into words pretty much everything I’ve been thinking about my Grandfather. Grandpa was kind, thoughtful and the very definition of generous. There was a reason that small children and household pets flocked to him. And I’m not just talking about the treats that he doled out. He was a friend to everyone and everything, large and small. Well, everything but squirrels. Grandpa hated squirrels.
Every family has its favorite stories and one of ours is about the weekend that I spent on my own with my grandparents when I was a little over a year old. My parents, who made their own granola and considered tofu to be a food group, were crystal clear with my Grandpa when they dropped me off: don’t spend the weekend feeding her junk food. They came back to get me on Sunday and my Grandpa swore up and down that he’d been the measure of restraint. My parents grudgingly accepted his assurances.
That is, until I started tugging on his shirt and saying, “Nuts! Nuts!”
My Grandpa turned bright red and admitted that he’d spent the weekend feeding me those little mini powdered donuts. And, like the little sugar junkie that I was, I was fiending for them something fierce.
Some of my earliest memories are of trips to my grandparents house. The details are a little fuzzy, but the feelings are all there. Happiness and love, that warm feeling when you know that your every need is going to be taken care of. And powdered donuts. You’d best believe that I remember those powdered donuts.
My Grandpa used to dress up like Santa Claus for us. I remember him telling us, all excited, that Santa was going to come and visit! I think he enjoyed the excitement just as much as we all did. And then, a little later, he said that he needed to go upstairs and take care of something. I begged him to stay downstairs. “Grandpa! If you go upstairs, you’ll miss Santa! You always miss Santa!” I think it says a lot about our love for Grandpa that we all remember wanting him to meet Santa (my cousin Jacquelyn has the same memory). It just wasn’t the same without him.
Last week, I was showing these pictures to my Grandma and she told us that my Dad bought that suit. I can picture Grandpa opening it. He probably played it cool, but you can tell that he just loved being Santa.
Grandpa was a man of carefully chosen words, most of them wisecracks. In a family like ours, it can be hard to get a word in edge-wise, but Grandpa knew just when to play his cards. He could command a room with the simple force of his presence. And his comedic timing was impeccable.
And he could be competitive! When, at my HS graduation, I made a joke about getting the same sized check from him as I did from his mother, he silently reached over and handed me a dollar.
Grandpa loved the Yankees, which put him at odds with this Red Sox loving Bostonian. Over the years, there was much bantering back and forth about our respective teams. This year, after the Sox’ epic collapse, he sent me a card with a picture of a boat on it. He drew in “S.S. Red Sox” on the bough and then talked some smack on the inside about our ship having sailed. In this day of Facebook, it’s easy to lay down some trash talk when someone’s team gets eliminated from the playoffs. Grandpa took it to that extra level with a trip to the stationary store and the post office.
It’s hard to describe the depth of my love for my Grandpa. On the surface of it, dressing up like Santa Claus and doling out powdered donuts don’t seem like all that big of a deal. But in everything that Grandpa did, it was written a thousand times over his face just how much he loved us. He did some great things in his life, but the greatest of all was the love and happiness that he gave to his family. It a testament to that love that so many of us made the pilgrimage to CT to say goodbye. My grandparents house hasn’t been empty since he came home from the hospital.
The last few weeks have been hard, but Grandpa spent them surrounded by his family. I am so very grateful that he wasn’t in any pain and that he was barely in any discomfort. When my Dad told him how much we loved him, Grandpa answered with a simple, “I know.” How could he not? That love has been written all over our faces for our entire lives.
Rest in peace, Grandpa. I will miss you more than you could ever imagine.
He went peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by loving family. It doesn’t make this any easier.
Grandpa, I miss you already.
You know you have the best friends in the world when you can send them an email that essentially says, “I’m feeling pretty sad and will probably not be the greatest company, but I’d love to hang out with you tonight” and every single one of them shows up. With food.
I experienced a whirlwind of emotions on Friday afternoon as my family attempted to figure out just how urgent it was that we all make our way to CT to see my grandfather. By the end of the day, I was exhausted, mentally and physically, but simultaneously desperate to get out of my own head. Kristian suggested that we invite a few folks over, so I sent out the aforementioned sad sack of an email. I wasn’t sure if it was asking too much to invite people over for the sole purpose of cheering me up, but if I was out of line they were all too nice to do anything but cheer me up.
I almost felt bad about having such a good time, but it ended up being a lovely evening. Kristian made homemade pizza and we ate ice cream and yodels. We made plans for a big road trip that we’re hoping to take in May. And we went through a bunch of old photos and laughed at the ridonculous hair that we all sported back in the 90s. Mostly, I basked in their friendship. It was glorious.
Saturday was tough. Kristian and I drove down to CT where various family members had congregated and we all spent most of the day comforting each other and crying. We’d all be fine for a bit, but then somebody would start crying and we’d all start crying. It was positively dehydrating.
My Grandfather is in decent spirits and he’s still not in any pain. Uncomfortable, yes, but not in any pain. He takes a lot of naps, but I did manage to spend a little bit of time with him. I told him what an amazing Grandpa he is, the gold standard of Grandfathers. Which made him cry. Which made my Grandmother cry. Which made me cry. I can’t get the image of his tears out of my head, but I’m glad that I said what I did. He is an amazing grandfather. I’m pretty sure that he’s aware of how we all feel, but it was important for me to tell him. I just hope that this hurt in my soul can fade into a dull ache. Right now, it’s almost unbearably painful.
It’s a testament to how amazing my Grandfather is that so many people have been checking in on him and reaching out to my family. The nurse from his oncologist’s office called on her day off to check on him. A woman from another office stopped by the hospital to visit him. My family has to maintain a strict schedule in terms of who can come over, because otherwise he’d be overwhelmed with visitors. That’s just the kind of man that my Grandpa is. People are instinctively drawn to him. He has that kind of spirit.
This has been a tough time for me, but I know that I’ll get through it. How could I not? I have the world’s greatest friends and family.
(This post isn’t very well written. Let’s blame my mental state and not my lack of writing ability. Yes? Yes! Thanks.)
Thanks for all the kind comments on my last post, guys. It’s been a tough week, but it’s so wonderful to have so many thoughtful, caring people in my world. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by life these days, but having you all in my corner is helping me out tremendously.
The good news is, Grandpa is going to be coming home soon. The bad news is, the cancer is spreading. I’m feeling oddly grateful, because he’s not in any pain and he has some of his appetite back. We’ll probably be heading down to CT for another visit this weekend.
I feel a little weird about posting all of this on my blog. It’s a situation that I feel smack dab in the middle of, but it’s not entirely my story. Blogging can be weird like that. It feels disingenuous to gloss over the big events in my life, but I also don’t want to be responsible for the distribution of anybody’s private information. I hope that I strike an ok balance here. I’m sure I’ll hear about it if I mess up.
Today was a tough day for me. I was overly tired and overly emotional. By the time I got home, I felt completely and utterly drained, like life had hauled off and punched me in the stomach. Which is why it was that much more amazing to find a big ol’ box o’ happy sitting on my front porch, waiting for me.
What’s a big box o’ happy, you ask? It’s four years of birthday and Christmas gifts from a very dear friend who is thoughtful and kind in every which way, but a wee bit forgetful when it comes to putting things in the mail. Me? I’m the kind of girl who saves the best bites of dinner for the very end of the meal. Four years worth of gifts in one go suited me just fine. I might even start saving up all of my presents for future happiness. Note to Kristian: no perishable gifts for my birthday this year.
I basked in the glow of my presents for a bit, let them spend some time under the tree and then unleashed my OCD-like tendencies and lined them up in chronological order. I’ve only opened up a few gifts so far, because I’m savoring them. Why? Well, as we’ve thoroughly established on this here blog, I’m weird like that.
It’s nice to have presents and it’s nice to have shiny things under the tree, but what I really loved about my box o’ happy is what it represented: a good friend and how she’s been thinking about me all of these years. I have such wonderful friends, I almost feel like I need to start sharing. I mean, is it really right for just one person to have so many lovely ladies in their life? Can you support the friendless? Is there a Sally Struthers infomercial about how, for the price of just a cup of coffee a day, you can help the lonely and bitter and bring a little bit of joy into their life?
Someone get Sally’s agent on the line.
Me? I’m going to cherish my box o’ happy. Even if it turns out to be full of underwear and socks.
(Spoiler alert: the gifts thus far have been just as lovely as the thought behind them).
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