All the little Dots

One year ago, today I lost my grandpa Jack. He was an awesome guy. Probably the only person in this world to understand me. I still remember his funeral repass. It was so quiet. You could hear the tick of the sprinklers on his perfectly manicured lawn. Pawpaw as I liked to call him was always trimming or mowing his lawn. It’s the best in the neighborhood he would laugh and say. But that day all I could think of was the way he fell as he was trimming the hedges. Just like in the movies it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion. Down, down, down he went first dropping his shears, then landing on his elbow followed by the shaking and rippling of his blue and white striped shirt. His hat followed its wide tan brim buckled under the pressure. I ran to him as quickly as I could, but it seemed as if it took me ages to get there.

I sat on that beautiful lawn after he left us every day as if I were waiting for him to pull up in the driveway in his old faded red pickup truck. I sat there so much I started to kill the grass beneath me. I watered that spot and reseeded it, but it just would not grow. My mom reminded me that all the secrets to pawpaw’s lawn success would be in his shed. I almost spit when I thought about how simplistic the solution to my problem could be. I guess if I had mentioned it earlier it would have been fixed by now. “Don’t spend too much time fussing over that lawn my mom said I know how you obsess over things. I honestly don’t know why you spend so much time at that house. It’s starting to make me worry. Perhaps after you visit tomorrow, we can go see a friend of mine to talk about pawpaw. “a friend of mine” was her psychiatrist friend from college. Sure, I said to her. I knew that if I didn’t agree she would keep bugging me.

That afternoon I went to Pawpaw’s and walked onto the porch. I thought in order to not seem like I was losing it at least I could go into the house. As soon as I walked in, I was overwhelmed by the smell of cigar and old spice. It was his favorite cologne. I drug my finger across the entry way table and rubbed the dust between my fingers. It had been a long time since anyone was in there. As I passed the old grandfather clock in the foyer, I noticed a small stream of light that danced off the wall in the stairwell. I know we locked up the house well and the neighborhood has never been victimized by burglars. Taking all this into account I decided to walk upstairs just to check things out. I crept up the stairs trying to avoid the slits in the wood grain that creaked as I went up. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I grabbed one of the dusty golf clubs in the hall closet. Pawpaw never even used them. He always said one day we would hit the green, but we never got around to it. I checked each of the doors one by one and they were all shut. I looked again for the source of light and found it was coming from the attic. Perhaps the window was open there, so I opened the door and headed up the narrow stairwell into the attic. For the house to be so big the attic was small and dusty.

I remembered playing there as a little kid. Pretending to travel to distant places and mapping where I had been on the world map poster on grandpas’ desk. I walked over to the desk that sat across from the door and started to look through the piles of books that rested on top of it. There were old drawings and pictures and a little black book. I chuckled thinking about pawpaw having it. I thumb through the pages and they all were empty. As I placed the book on the desk, I heard my mother call from downstairs. “Hey kid you ready. She yelled. Sure, I replied rolling my eyes. I decided to take the book with me to therapy. Perhaps having it will bring me peace while I am being probed.

Once we arrived at therapy and mom immediately did all the talking. I think the session wad more about her and not my excessive sitting on the lawn. As the therapist nodded and scribbled in her notepad she asked if I felt like I had closure surrounding the loss of my grandfather. I tried to hold back but I blurted out you know it’s not fair I can’t seem to get used to him not being here I think we didn’t have enough time. I hate it here without him. Before I knew it tears began to roll down my cheeks. You should write him she said. Write him and tell him how much he is missed. I left the session feeling better and was glad to get home.

That night I sat at the kitchen table and decided to take her advice. I pulled out his little black book and began to write. Dear pawpaw I began to write. I miss you every day. The phone started to ring. I jumped as it was eerie, but I ran to the phone as if he would be on the other end. Hello I said slowly. Hey kid what do you want for dinner I am on my way home. It was my mom somehow, I felt disappointed. After we decided on pizza I went back to the table and started to write again. As I flipped open the book, I noticed another entry on the page. Hey kiddo I miss you too it read. I jumped back and ran to my room. My mind was racing could this be possible? could he really be writing me back? No one calls me kiddo but him. It’s not real I must be crazy. I slowly returned to the kitchen and looked at the page again. The writing was still there. I took the book and placed it in the kitchen drawer. I didn’t mention it to mom. So, I ate pizza silently that night and listened to her talk about her job as a nurse.

The next day I tried writing again Hey Pawpaw where is our favorite fishing spot? I knew only he would know. And sure, enough he answered. Come on kiddo you know we like to fish off the Ocean City pier. It was him! I couldn’t hold back my excitement. I wrote and wrote I just had to tell him everything. As the days and weeks went on, I found my handwriting getting smaller and smaller as I tried to reserve space. Eventually I noticed we were getting closer to the end of the book, so I only wrote the important things.

As time went on the number of pages began to get smaller and smaller. Until one day I reached the last page. I thought to myself couldn’t I just add more pages and I asked Pawpaw. No kiddo he wrote that won’t help. I took the opportunity to tell pawpaw exactly what I thought. Pawpaw this is the last page in the book. I will never be able to write you again. I just want you to know that I love you and I will always miss you. You have taught me so much and I will never forget you. I am so sorry I wasted so much time telling you about the little things. The most important thing of all is that I love you. And quicker than ever before he wrote back. I knew this day was coming just like the day I left you. I knew you would suffer so I asked if I could take the time to say goodbye. It is the small things that make us as people love each other. It is the details that build the best paintings. Have you ever noticed that the most impressive artists use dots to make a bigger painting? That is what life is a bunch of dots through time that create. The masterpiece called life. I was just a dot in your masterpiece. Before I say goodbye please look at my desk. I have something that I want to leave you with.

I ran down the street and up the porch. By the time I reached the door for the attic I was gasping for air. I am here I scribbled quickly. He responded look where my papers lie. In them you will find a folder titled trip. I found the folder and opened it. Every imaginary trip I took as a kid was there and attached to each page was an envelope. Inside the envelope there was an itinerary and the money to complete the trip. I wrote down WOW. He responded it is not a lot, but 20,000 dollars should take you all the places you ever wanted to go. Remember me as you place your dots. I love your kiddo. That was the last entry in the little black book. I still carry it with me tucking in sheets of paper filled with my adventures secretly hoping one day pawpaw would respond.