Aging

“A tip on aging…  do it in style…” I knew I would always remember the last thing my grandfather said.  As well as the fact that I didn’t know if I was going to laugh or cry.  He was the consummate joker and of course he would go out in style.  But as my grief moved in, I started to pay more attention to the grief of those around me. 

Did they miss my grandpa as much as I did?  Did they want to talk about him like I did?  Over the days immediately following my grandfather’s death, I watched my family closely.  I needed to understand their grief so I could better understand my own.  My mom didn’t want to talk to anyone, but I would often find her quietly crying while staring out the front window.  My father wanted to talk to everyone about anything and everything.  Everything but my grandpa. 

My sister was secretly smoking weed in her bedroom and my uncle was eating everything he could get his hands on.  What I came to realize was that no one knew how he had really died.  I had only found out by accident in the hours before his death.  I hadn’t known he was in so much pain until I saw him swallow the pills.