Busy, and mourning.
Busy by, playing soccer at church, buying a new van, growing StudioBennett, etc. But that’s all fodder. Filler, if I may. My grandfather passed away January 9th, at the age of 90. A peaceful death, feet from where my grandmother had passed almost 10 years earlier. I wanted to write immediately like my family did, about him, feelings, and whatnot, but I’m still not there. I was to tell of the stories of spaghetti sandwiches, winding clocks, working on little projects around his house. I couldn’t do it. Next to watching my daughter in pain, in the hospital in 2007, is the horrible, horrible ordeal of explaining the loss of a great grandparent to my children. After the funeral, I told myself I was done crying. Mourning. Yet, I will find it hard to go back to 515 E. Main, and not be saddened. We where there all the time growing up, and he’s all over that house. I think I even have a key on my keyring.
I see my father mourning still, and it’s understandably so. My relationship with my father has been the best ever, for the last several years, and I believe it was the same with my him and my grandfather. They would go on little doctor adventures, fix the computer adventures, and “bring Grandad to (insert child’s name here) birthday party adventures”.
I set up my clock tonight. It was his, then my parents, then mine. A mantle clock from 1903. I had been waiting since the move in August, to build a mantle in the new house, and unpack the clock then. I set it above the TV, and think of my grandfather working on it, as I hear it tick.
This is a good post. Your best yet. I wish I was as close to my parents and grandparents as you.