For a long time now I have always felt distant from my Grandfather. Do not get me wrong, I love him- Always have. I could never seem to understand him on an emotional level. He would talk about all sorts of things. The war in Germany. Him operating the machine gun and not seeing the faces of those he had shot. About never wanting the life he had and wishing he had made even more of a difference (as if he didn’t do enough already.) I like the stories of his young rebellious child hood as he set the Morgan Cemetery on fire. Yep, fire bug little was his nick name up there, and that’s how he says he got elected for student body president. Still I didn’t understand what it was like to be in his shoes until last Saturday however.
It was a girls morning (where we would get up early to play because we couldn’t later that night) and after a quick twenty minute chat of boys, homework, and the stresses of family members just going into the sixth grade my best friend, Brooke, and I decided to be lazy and eat out instead of making pancakes or french toast with powdered sugar. To the golden arches we went, I ordered a simple sausage MC- something and we sat at a tall, circular table. Laughing came easy, and conversation rarely ceased. My eyes began to water because we had been joking so much.
We had been there for about ten minutes now. This was one of the first times where we didn’t manage to spill our drinks everywhere or drop a sandwich on the ground. When we were coming to a close when I saw a sight that touched my heart in such a lonely way.
His face looked so familiar; laugh lines on his sun stained face, a light blue and white cotton striped shirt that buttoned up to the collar, his thin white silver hair parted and slicked, heavy metallic eye brows formed one continuous stream of sporadic stubs across his forehead in concentration, hands who had done labor in a potato field now white like chalk and swollen from the daily events like tying his shoes that where now coming undone again. Yet, I had never seen the man in my life. His tray was shaking slightly as she looked at the tables around him, finally spotting a table off to the side.
All alone. Something so sad to me. I tried to think of things I could say, ways I could help. Five minutes passes while I sat and watched the man. The mood of joy died down and we stopped the chatting. Deep in thought we unconsciously stared at the man.
“Brooke we gotta do something!” I begged in low hushed tones.
“What CAN we do?”
“Come with me and sit by him.”
“You can go sit by him, I’m not stopping you.”
“Come with me!”
“No, that’s weird! Who does that? Oh, sorry you’re a loner and sitting by yourself. Gee let me be a creep and sit by you even if you don’t want company!”
Oh! How badly I wanted her to be wrong and help me do something, but what was to be done? She had a point. I gave her my angriest face. She knew that I wanted silence so she went back to her drink. Not having the courage to ask if he wanted company we sat there and watched.
He took slow bites, extending his neck like a turtle and cautiously sunk his teeth into the meat. Each bite seemed to pain him. His facial expression gave me the impression of someone trying to eat carpet to stay alive. Looking closer at the kid sized hamburger there was nothing but lettuce on it and a patty. A napkin was stained with ketchup as if he had whipped it off because there was too much flavor. Not once did he pick up the salt or pepper shakers. Maybe he liked things plain like they did in the old days when they couldn’t get flavor as easily as we could. He’s not used to it.
He gazed out the window yet his eyes seemed to be taking in any of the cotton trees or the just mowed grass being blown off the sidewalk because he was deep into thought. Maybe he was imagining his wife who had gone. Wishing she could be next to him. What would he say to her? A faint glimmer returned to his eye as he glanced at the seat across from him, but when his eyes hit the empty bench it left as quickly as it had come.
He got up before we thought of a plan. Shuffling to the trash can he got a little confused as it opened because of the motion sensor. Shaking his head at technology he dumped the wrapper and a napkin into the bin and placed his black tray on top. Slowly he meandered back to the door and out of sight. As we parted from the scene, I wished the man had not known any of the fuss about him.
As soon as my seat was buckled I was calling Grandpa.
"Heelllo?"
"Hi Grandpa."
"Who’s this? Boo?"
"Yeah it’s me"
"Well Hello Hello, is there something I can do for you?"
"No... I just wanted to say I love you... that's all."
"You mean you called me just so say that?"
"Yeah..."
"Well I was just thinking the sun has to get up, why do I? But you just made my day!"
With understanding, I think everyone can get along.
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