Loss Lessons -- Sporadic Voids

I grew up in a house simple yards away from my grandparents' house.

Sometimes my grandpa would come up to the screen in our windows.

I would run to the window and talk to him

In his baseball hat and sunglasses.

I have pictures of him greeting me as I ran off the school bus

In early elementary.

He was so tall and sturdy and healthy then.

He helped me carry school projects 

Asked me "Where's your jacket?"
"Did you wash your hands when you got home from school?"

Sometimes my parents would call my grandparents' number

To make sure I was over there

And I was.

Sometimes my grandma would be at the store

When I got home from school

And my grandpa and I would talk freely.

What's going on at school? --

Are your classmates treating you well?

How are your grades?

What have you been playing at piano lessons --

Anything more upbeat?
(The wind carried slow, minor chords to their house.)

Then we'd see my grandma's car and he told me 

"Let's help your grandma bring in the groceries."

When I moved an hour away to go to college,

My grandpa was devastated.

I didn't come home enough.

When I came home after college 

And worked two jobs

I didn't visit enough.

When I moved an hour away for a job,

I didn't come home enough.

I think sometimes I took for granted

Being wanted so much.

It was a privilege I had enjoyed my entire life.

Being loved and never shooed away by my grandpa.

I was never in the way.

I was always welcome.

Whenever I left, I felt bad.

I don't think there was ever a time that I struggled 

To say that I was going to leave -- 

Even if I'd be back an a few days.

There was a guilt there

Because it made my grandpa sad.

When I was busy, I was all in.

I get my work ethic from him.

I missed him, and the rest of my family, 

But I was away -- 

And tethered to what was in front of me

And wanting to do everything "my best,"

As my grandpa said

And my dad said even more frequently.

I had loyal men

And loving women 

In my life --

Still do.

When I went home, 

It was like nothing had changed.

I had changed, 

But home had not.

I never felt a void because even though

My grandparents aged, 

The way we talked 

Didn't age.

We picked up where we left off.

They were a constant--

My privilege.

As my grandpa had his first stroke

Recovered

Began medications

Refused to take them

Got sick 

Became bedridden --

His mind didn't start to slip away

Until the last phase.

He was always showing his personality

His love and care

And his orneriness.

But I saw him deteriorate physically

At a slow pace.

And slowly, I felt sporadic voids.

I wouldn't notice a void

When I was gone --

Caught up --

And due to the slow deterioration

I thought I'd prepared my heart

For when I would start feeling seeing voids.

But those last visits were disheartening

But my grandma was in the hospital

My grandpa didn't want a funeral

COVID-19 hit.

The voids hit and then I swallowed them.

But you can't get rid of the air

That was occupied by love and want 

A privilege.

And now the voids pop up in my dreams --

Sporadic grieving --

When I'm sitting at my desk at work.

When I think to call him.

When I go home and see my grandma 

Who's mind is on a slow pace exit itself.

90 years is a long time

For a body and mind

Put to good use.

That's a lesson on loss --

That it's going to hit me

Suddenly

For the rest of my life.

You can try to prepare, 

And maybe it helps a bit, 

But it's normal -- and okay --

To live the rest of your life

With parts of you missing.