twelve-twenty.
it's officially thursday.
two years ago, on the drive home from work, i got the call.
"your grandfather passed away this morning. we wanted to wait to tell you until you were off from work. you okay?"
i couldn't go. not only was i flat broke, but the thought of having to leave work and lose even more money... i'd have taken a pretty big hit, and as it was, i was kinda scraping by.
admittedly, a part of me didn't want to go, either. the thought of being around family members who referred to my granddad as "old fool" just sickened me.
in a blog entry from a now-defunct web site, i mentioned that i used to view my grandmother as the sweetest little old lady.
somewhere around seventeen, i was given a glimpse at the bullshit she's guilty of perpetrating.
my dad has two brothers. each of their sons are complete failures, and their fathers allowed them to be.
while things between my dad and i have never been perfect (fathers and sons... typical), failure was not an option in his house. at the time, it just seemed oppressive, and i'm sure it was. in hindsight, however, my brother and i were given the tools necessary to survive.
not ditch high school because there was a chance for a free car, like my cousin frankie.
not get fifteen year-old girls pregnant at twenty-one, like my cousin joey.
one day, my grandmother had the nerve of telling my dad that he was her least favourite.
and why?
because dad left home. dad enlisted, was sent to korea (it was the seventies, so, well after the ceasefire), came back, went to college, and made a life for himself, the wife his sisters and mother hated, and the two sons that came from it.
granted, he's only ever been a forty-five minute drive away... hispanic families - go figure.
when i heard that my grandmother was still very upset at granddad for taking her away from her family, i cringed. there was nothing for us in mexico, no future, and he knew it. he did everything he could to make sure that future generations would benefit from the choices he made.
i don't think he ever set foot in mexico, again. why would he?
to refer to this great man as an "old fool" is gross negligence and the epitome of selfishness.
so, while i didn't see him laying in the hospital bed, lungs continually drained of fluid so he could breathe, i made sure that he knew i was thinking about him.
"your grandfather says that everything will be all right, and wants you to keep doing what you're doing. he's very proud of you and israel."
a few days before, he told the family that the next time he stopped breathing...
they say no one chooses when.
he did.
he was ready for the next step.
a visionary to the very end.
and as i sit here typing, crying...
... i can't help but be thankful.
when i wanted to move to seattle, everyone was horrified.
"let him go. let him learn. he will, you know. he's not a baby, anymore."
if you're listening, somewhere out there... i think about you in the notes of arpeggios... sunrises when i should have slept through the night... when i look at the spaceman's face... and when i think that you and i will meet again one day.
people always talk about family history, but poor people keep no records.
it doesn't matter, because as far as i've ever been concerned, it all began with you.
one day, my children will understand that... as my father does, as my brother and i do.
these songs are for you. rest assured that they will be blasting from my car stereo on my way to west seattle in about four hours.
coming soon, "emblissana, my reply (tonight is the night, part II)"
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