My Life Of My Grandmother
My Grandmother died a couple months ago. It wasn 't a sudden thing. It was a long time coming. I
was standing in the kitchen with my dad when he picked up the phone. He frowned, flicked his
eyes to me, to my mother then back to me. He mumbled some confirmations then said, "That 's fine.
I'll be there shortly, thank you." He set the phone down on the table, and just briefly, I think I caught
a fleeting glimpse of a smile.
I had known she was sick. My dad had mentioned it briefly, as if it was just a small thing not really
worth talking about. It was just like reporting the morning's news. But instead of, "Oh, the Reds lost
again" it was, "Your grandmother is in the hospital. She isn 't doing too well." I'm not sure that he
even looked up...show more content...
I had expected long days of walking on eggshells, giving my father space and time to grieve. I had
expected an excessive breakfast the morning after, with stacks of pancakes, orange juice, coffee.
The works. I had expected my Father to be stuffing his face, smiling, pretending everything was all
right, only to breakdown with syrup on his face and jam on his fingers. What I got was oatmeal,
and a dad who looked well rested if not little distracted.
I knew my dad and grandmother were not on speaking terms. That much was always known and
not hidden from me. But I thought...I don't know. I thought there might have been something
when she died. I just expected more, I guess. When he came home from the morgue or wherever
he had to go to after the call, I was in the living room and looked over my shoulder when the front
door creaked open. My mom came up and embraced him, he put his head on her shoulders and
they just stood there, barely swaying in the foyer. I got up and walked over to them. My mom drew
away, teary eyed, and my dad looked at me. "You're my proof, Cole." He said with a small quiver in
his voice. "You're my proof that something good can come from my bloodline." He smiled and
hugged me, longer than he ever has before. My mother joined in and then my dad called, "Eddie!
Come down here!"
My younger brother came from his room at the top of the stairs and frowned at our group, hugging
at the bottom. "Come here, kid." My dad said in his sandy, old
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