An Old Father

May 19, 2018

This is the last time I'll see him alive. I know that. I won't say it of course. That would be rude, and I want to live in the lie of an immortal today a little longer.

"How's that lady of yours?" He asks.

"She's doing great grandpa" I say. We broke up months ago. He doesn't need to know that though. He met her once, and liked her, who am I to take that away?

"Bring her with you next time, what was her name again, Sylvia?"

"Cynthia, you were close." Her name is Chloe.

"Sylvia, Cynthia same difference, that's not a bad memory for a old guy you know. I can still say the preamble to the Constitution, We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union-" he says the whole thing. I'll admit, that is pretty impressive for an old guy.

I clap, then slip my hand back in his. He squeezes as tight as he's able.

"Watch it, you'll break my hand" I say.

"Don't pander to me Joshua, you know I once shook hands with John Wayne, now there was a guy who could snap you in two," He's got a picture with John Wayne somewhere around the hovel.

"Turn on the t.v. would ya?" He asks. I do, and we watch NCIS for a little while. He says he watches it because he likes DiNozzo, an agent played by Michael Weatherly. I think he actually watches it for Ziva David, played by Cote De Pablo.

He falls asleep in about fifteen minutes. I stay. It is the last time I'll see him after all. Besides, I'm a fan of Cote de Pablo too.

September 1, 2010

"You're grounded"

"Grounded? I'm just going to leave anyway" I said.

He stood up to his full height, around 5'6 on a good day. I stood up too. Not large by any stretch, but taller than him. Stronger too. I pushed him back into his E-Z boy recliner, dust exploding out of it. His anger was only matched by his frustration. Once upon a time he could fling hay bales into the back of a pickup truck. Now? An old man trying his hardest to raise a stubborn son, and scared to hell that he'll grow up to be like him.

"I'll call the police," he said.

"And tell them what? That you're too frail to manage your kid? Let me get you the phone," I grabbed the phone off of the small console and threw it onto his lap.

"Please, Joshua-" the plea of a man whose body has betrayed him.

I slammed the door on the way out. The dust still hadn't settled to the ground from when I pushed him. In a way it never really did.

May 19, 2018

"Come on you old geezer. Wake up," he opens one eye.

"What's that, huh, I've been awake, I was just resting my eyes." Why do old men lie about being asleep? Is it because they fear their unconscious minds?

"Uh-huh, so what'd you think about that part where Ziva took her shirt off?" His head snapped to mine, and then to the remote.

"Now Joshua, I know that doesn't happen in this show," he said, a half toothless grin slapped on his face. "Record it anyway would ya, I don't think I have this one saved" I press some buttons on the remote. He doesn't have a TiVo, but I did buy him season 1-5 on DVD a few years back. He forgot I think. Or he lost them. It wouldn't be a huge surprise in this place.

"So how's Maria these days?" I ask. "You know you should still wear protection right grandpa?" Maria is his caretaker. He likes her an awful lot, and I'm glad, even if he is an old pervert.

"It's not like that Joshua, you know, she's a talker. Like your grandma used to be," a smile stretches its way onto my face. "But, I'll tell ya, she keeps nagging me about these pills. Always, take this one Henry, and next this one Henry, it's never ending." Thank God for Maria, she's a saint for dealing with this man.

"Uh huh, how you feeling anyway?" and I prepare myself for the grocery list of aches and pains that fill his body with turmoil that comes with being old.

"Honestly, I'm just tired," he says.

Aren't we all?

June 3 2007

"Grandpa?" I yelled, and went towards the loud bang in the garage.

"Oh, Joshua just in time, I'm a little light headed do you think-" he was on the floor of the garage, a nasty pile of blood pooling around his leg and arm. I didn't wait for him to finish the sentence to start helping him up.

"It's these drugs they've got me on these days I swear-"

"I know grandpa, come on." The blood sticks to my shirt, it's not all that bad, a couple of light scrapes honestly but his blood was so thin. He was trying to get Christmas decorations from the attic and slipped.

Half supporting, half carrying him back to his E-Z boy recliner I hadn't noticed how much lighter he had gotten. Is it normal for a fifteen year old to carry their grandfather? Their father? Those questions don't bother me until years later.

May 19, 2018

I ask him if he wants anything to drink.

"Coffee, the good stuff don't give me any of that decaf" he says from the living room. I maneuver around the piles of books and fishing tackle he's managed to pile up around the place.

Maria said not to give him coffee of any sort before bed. I make a pot of the good stuff. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. I make sure to wash the pot out good before I bring us both back a mug.

"You know I'm proud of you Joshua. You turned out alright, I don't say it enough, I know that. But I am proud." It came out of nowhere, but I tell him I know. I wonder if he knows this is the last time I'll see him alive too.

"Aw thanks grandpa, proud of you too, you've got Maria wrapped around your little finger," He laughs, good and hearty, but looks down at the wedding ring he still hasn't taken off.

June 15, 2004

"What's going on?" I ask him.

"It's your grandma Joshua, she's gone on to be with the Lord," his body shook with tremors, his forehead teemed with the sweat of a man who had been up all night tending to his best friend. The blue-grey eyes that had never known moisture welled up with a spring reserved for one who he had spent the better part of a lifetime learning to love.

I nearly crumbled under the weight of holding him up then. I struggled with the weight of not being able to crawl into the ground and feel. To grieve the loss of my mother, or as I often called her, grandma.

I didn't crumble though. I couldn't.

It was the first time I had to be stronger.

May 18, 2019

"You know I still miss her," he says, his attention settling on the band of tarnished metal on his hand. An old ring worn down by age and a love that refused to fade.

"I know grandpa, she'd be happy for you though- who knew you would do so well afterwards!" He laughed again, and then threw a small napkin at me.

"Well, I think I'd better get going I've got a long drive ahead of me" I stand up and stretch knowing full well that in that house, goodbyes last a good five to ten minutes longer than they have any business doing.

"You can stay here you know, there's a spare bed in your old room, and you know this couch pulls out into a bed too," I laugh. There's probably three beds, cause he's gonna fall asleep in that E-Z boy. I tell him I need to be at work in the morning, and besides I don't want to get in the way of his and Maria's budding romance.

August 10, 1997

I sat in the passenger seat of an 1982 Oldsmobile Cutlass on the way to my first day of kindergarten. He was at the steering wheel, whistling an Elvis tune of some variety. School sounded like an awfully scary place. Full of evil, and other children, often looking identical in that way.

We sat in the car for a little while, I didn't want to get out.

"You scared?" He asked.

"No, I just don't want you to leave me." In fact, I was terrified.

"Well, if that's all, I'll stay right here" I asked him to swear it. He didn't cause he said he didn't like to swear. Said it was against the bible. He said he'd make me a promise though, and that a man never goes back on a promise.

Would you believe he sat in that Oldsmobile in the parking lot of an elementary school all damn day?

May 19, 2018

I bend over to give him a hug, he wraps his arms around me. His bony frame struggles to hold on to me. But it's still warm there.

"You sure you can't stay?" he asks.

"You scared?" I ask, a little jokingly.

"Just don't want you to leave is all," he shrugs as if it doesn't really matter. It's funny cause I was just thinking the same thing.

"One more episode of NCIS," I say.

He's asleep in the first fifteen minutes. I pull the bed out of the couch. I set my alarm for 4:30 so I can still make it to work on time. I'll be tired, but I owe it to him to let the dust settle.

I kiss him on the forehead before I leave, careful not to wake the snoring old man. I swear I hear him whisper 'I love you' from across the living room. A whisper isn't loud enough to reach me from where he's sitting.

All the same, I whisper it back.

In memory of Henry "Bud" Eva.