Last year I lost a friend to heart failure. Six months later I lost a friend to a broken heart. I never looked at life as an opportunity or a missed one as much as I do now.
I look at my grandfather's life as such a waste because he was so hard to read. The most unfortunate misread part of his life was the fact that his children have a hard time believing he loved them. The day he died was one of the hardest days of my life. I was so conflicted.... and conflict was his middle name. I mourned his death because of the relationship we had and I was going to miss my Pop Pop and my friend. But at the same time I knew in his death, there would be more peace on earth and within my family. Our relationship, though, was unique and suddenly in his death, I knew the time had finally come to defend him. He wouldn't have wanted me to do it in life.... but I guess it was just always understood that in his death, I'd speak on his behalf and tell the world what he really meant.
He smoked a lot and for a long time. So as he got older he became ill, and then obese, and then... helpless without my Nanny's help. He couldn't really do much, physically, without sweating and struggling to catch his breath. But I have one particular memory of him holding my son when he was just a few weeks old. He propped him up on the table and put his cheek to my son's and started kissing him and whispering in his ear. My mom was sitting next to me and said "Ok, that's enough". She couldn't stand how close he was getting to my son's face and that he was sweating and breathing so hard. But Pop and I paid no attention to her... because in that moment, I knew exactly how much he loved my son... and he had only known him for three weeks.
When David, my son, was born my grandfather insisted that he come to the hospital. When he came into the room in the wheelchair and surrounded by a whole entourage, I knew that it had been more trouble to get there than most would have thought it was worth. But in case there's any way he could hear me now... it was worth it, because it meant a lot to me. He didn't stay long, but before he left he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my face to him, he gave me a kiss and said "I knew you could do it." Typically and understandably, I would have thought "do what? I had a c-section, I didn't do anything".... but I understood what he was saying.
You're welcome, Pop. Thank you, Pop. I love you, Pop. You're a pain in the ass, and one of the best friends I'll ever have.
Speaking of best friends... my Nanny was his. We all knew that Pop was going to die one day and he told us all the time that it was his last this and his last that... but after 16 years of last christmases and last father's days and everything else, we took it for granted. When he finally passed away, it was sudden and unexpected and he left us all in shock. Especially my Nan. She was his hands, legs, lungs... she was everything for him so that he could continue to just... be.
We all thought that when he died, it would be her ultimate vacation. She was tired; she had been tired a long time. She slept for the first month or so after he passed away. It was great for our relationship because I was able to help her more than I ever had in my life, I was able to talk to her woman to woman without the input of the man at the other end of the table.
Right after Pop passed away I found out I was pregnant. In October, I found out I was having a girl and we decided we would name her Fiona Grace. My Nanny hated the name and said "She's going to get Fi Fi." On October 31st, she died. She had an aortic aneurysm-- literally a broken heart.
I read at her funeral, it was Proverbs 31; 10-31. I choked up and could hardly get through the first verse, "He who finds a good wife, has found a treasure more precious than pearls."
I lost two mentors and friends, and gained two children in the same time period. And I feel lost. I don't know how she found the strength to be the mother and wife that she was. We all knew what a treasure she was, and although he didn't show it well, Pop knew how lucky he was to have found her. And he knew how lucky he was that she stayed. I wish I had her composure... and I know that perhaps it was Pop who taught her how to maintain it so well. Maybe she didn't, maybe she was sitting somewhere and just crying her eyes out, by herself, just like I am right now. Maybe she dried her eyes and splashed some cold water on her face in time to smile at her children. Maybe it's ok to cry, maybe that's all part of it... maybe that's part of becoming "a treasure more precious than pearls."
