Handstands: Grandparents

Is this heaven? He asks.

Or am I dreaming? I wake up to this delicious breakfast and I am surrounded by four beautiful girls.

He gives the happiest, most content smile. He means his wife, his two daughters and one granddaughter. He looks at me and smiles even bigger.

My heart breaks.

I hold his hand and hug him. I hug him so tight and all I feel the frail man under the layers and layers of clothes that try but fail at keeping him warm. He shivers a little and I hold him tighter.

We watch one of his grandsons marry the love of his life. Then later, in an unheated but beautifully decorated barn, we watch them dance their first dance. I am holding his hand and leaning on his thin shoulder. I think it can’t get better than this. Grandpa smiles at me. It just got better.

I give him a hug goodnight. He looks into my eyes, straight to my heart. I love you so much, he says. I wish I could see you more. I do too, I say. I really mean it.

Sometimes he can’t hear what is going on around him. We talk too fast, too quietly. He looks lost, and left out and I hate that. I want him to be part of everything. I want him to feel surrounded and loved. Sometimes he can hear and he joins in with his witty banter, and it is just like when I was younger. When we played prisoner and he sang with me, and told me stories. Even then, I wasted my time with him. When you are young you don’t realize how important your grandparents are. They are solid, ever loving and maybe not as exciting as children think they should be. But they are filled with wisdom and history and knowledge. You avoid them on the phone and talk to them as little as possible. Then one day you wake up and they are older and you realize time doesn’t wait.

It just tick tick ticks away.

Sometimes grandpa talks about when he met grandma. She was the prettiest girl, he said. She asked to borrow my jokes on the train. Then I went back to her and asked if I could talk to her, because I was lonesome.

I never did read those jokes, grandma adds in. Grandpa smiles at her as if the whole world still revolves around her. Three kids and 68 years of marriage later and he is still hopelessly in love. It is the gold standard. Unless Paul makes it to 97 years of age, we will never be married that long. But I can see the love in my grandpa’s eyes. I even caught grandma smiling once too.

Grandparents are always given the special table – the table closest to the wedding party or to the person of honor. But I also notice that this table is never full. Even at grandpa’s 90^th birthday, his table only had half the seats taken. It almost feels as if they are surrounded by family and friends but no one wants to sit with them. Everyone would rather sit with friends or the younger crowd. Which I get, except that my cousins will most likely still be there next year and we have plenty of time to catch up. I cannot say the same for my grandparents. I wish people would fight to be at the grandparents table.

And now I’m on another plane, heading away from grandma and grandpa. I feel terrible sometimes, for living so far away, I told my cousin. You have to live your life, my cousin replied. I understand that. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling terribly guilty and sad all at once. I want to learn everything about my grandparents. I want to ask them a million questions and I am so afraid I am running out of time. They are part of a generation that lived through World War 2, the Great Depression, the invention of the computer and many other newfangled devices. They have so much to share; they traveled so many places and saw so many things. How I wasted so many years when their memory was good to learn about them. I don’t want to waste any more time. But I live in Switzerland. How do I reconcile that?

I guess I write letters, I call more often, I visit when the opportunity arises.

Is this heaven? He asks again. No grandpa, I respond, not yet. You aren’t getting there for a while.

Then am I dreaming? This is so wonderful, he smiles at me. You aren’t dreaming either grandpa. I smile back and give him the longest, strongest hug I can. I love you grandpa.

I love you too, dear, he says.