My grandpa died two days ago.
I felt my phone vibrating and saw my mom’s name pop up…she hasn’t called me in 8 years. A couple of rings went by while I thought of every single possible thing she could be calling me about. Finally, I answered the phone:
Me: “hello?”
Mom: “hi, how are you?”
Me: “good…how are you?”
Mom: “i’m good, grandpa is dead.”
Woah now mom, you didn’t have to hit me with that so fast. I had no idea what to say. I haven’t seen my grandpa in over six years and every time I tried to call him, he did everything in his power to get off the phone with me. I honestly think he hated me, I’m sure that’s not true, but that’s how it felt. He’s also the first family member in my life to die, the only thing I’ve lost before this was a family dog.
A couple years ago, someone asked me if I would regret not talking to my family ever again and I said no, but I got off the phone with my grandma today and realized that’s not true. She turned 88 this year, and I don’t know how many more years I have with her. She’s the only one who congratulated me for making it out of my family, asks me if I’m happy, checks my Facebook every day to see what adventure I’m on. She’s the only one rooting for me, and I hate myself for hating her for so long. When I first got kicked out at 16, I hated everyone and everything. I had so much hatred that ran through my body and I took it out on everyone that surrounded me. I cut ties so fast and didn’t even care about any of it.
And now here we are, one family member dead. I’ve gone to school these past two days and in the back of my head I keep hearing, “grandpa is dead.” I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, quite honestly, I’m more upset with myself for feeling nothing and pissed about having a broken showerhead. I haven’t showered in days because one of my friends decided to take my showerhead off to try and help me and then broke it in the process. My hair is disgusting. I am disgusting. To say I need a shower is an understatement.
I don’t think they are going to have a funeral for my grandpa, which makes me sadder. In all honesty I thought the funeral would be a way for me to get my family back. Sounds morbid, but I’ve been waiting for a family member to die, so that we all have to be stuck in the same room together for a couple hours. In hopes that maybe me and my family can put everything that happened 8 years ago aside and just talk. I don’t want the rest of my life to be me sitting here wondering what it would be like to be a family again. Then again, the last time I called my brother a couple of months ago I told him who it was on the phone and then immediately heard the dial tone…so maybe I’m better off. Who knows?
I only have one thing left from my grandpa and that’s my “Father Ryan” sweatshirt…I took it from his closet when I was in high school and never gave it back. He was a teacher at Father Ryan Catholic School. He taught English, I believe. I love this sweatshirt and wear it all the time. I never thought it would be the last thing I have of him.