My maternal grandfather was the scientist in my family. I was young enough that my brain hadn’t decided to start doing its job yet, so my memories with him are scattered and inconsistent and hard to retrieve. But there’s no way that I could forget all of the dumb jokes he made; how we’d play Scrabble and he’d (almost surely) pretend to lose to me; how, every time he got to see me, his eyes would light up with boyish joy.
My greatest regret took place in the summer of 2007. My family celebrated the first day of the school year at an all-you-can-eat buffet, delicious food stacked high as the eye could fathom under lights of green, red, and blue. After a particularly savory meal, we made to leave the surrounding mall. My grandfather asked me to walk with him.
I was a child who thought to avoid being seen too close to uncool adults. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about hearing the cracking sound of his skull against the ground. I wasn’t thinking about turning to see his poorly congealed blood flowing from his forehead out onto the floor. I wasn’t thinking I would nervously watch him bleed for long minutes while shielding my seven-year-old brother from the sight. I wasn’t thinking that I should go visit him in the hospital, because that would be scary. I wasn’t thinking he would die of a stroke the next day.
I wasn’t thinking the last thing I would ever say to him would be “no[, I won’t walk with you]”.
Who could think about that? No, that was not a foreseeable mistake. Rather, I wasn’t thinking about how precious and short my time with him was. I wasn’t appreciating how fragile my loved ones are. I didn’t realize that something as inconsequential as an unidentified ramp in a shopping mall was allowed to kill my grandfather.
My mother told me my memory was indeed faulty. He never asked me to walk with him; instead, he asked me to hug him during dinner. I said I’d hug him “tomorrow”.
But I did, apparently, want to see him in the hospital; it was my mother and grandmother who decided I shouldn’t see him in that state.
My maternal grandfather was the scientist in my family. I was young enough that my brain hadn’t decided to start doing its job yet, so my memories with him are scattered and inconsistent and hard to retrieve. But there’s no way that I could forget all of the dumb jokes he made; how we’d play Scrabble and he’d (almost surely) pretend to lose to me; how, every time he got to see me, his eyes would light up with boyish joy.
My greatest regret took place in the summer of 2007. My family celebrated the first day of the school year at an all-you-can-eat buffet, delicious food stacked high as the eye could fathom under lights of green, red, and blue. After a particularly savory meal, we made to leave the surrounding mall. My grandfather asked me to walk with him.
I was a child who thought to avoid being seen too close to uncool adults. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about hearing the cracking sound of his skull against the ground. I wasn’t thinking about turning to see his poorly congealed blood flowing from his forehead out onto the floor. I wasn’t thinking I would nervously watch him bleed for long minutes while shielding my seven-year-old brother from the sight. I wasn’t thinking that I should go visit him in the hospital, because that would be scary. I wasn’t thinking he would die of a stroke the next day.
I wasn’t thinking the last thing I would ever say to him would be “no[, I won’t walk with you]”.
Who could think about that? No, that was not a foreseeable mistake. Rather, I wasn’t thinking about how precious and short my time with him was. I wasn’t appreciating how fragile my loved ones are. I didn’t realize that something as inconsequential as an unidentified ramp in a shopping mall was allowed to kill my grandfather.
I miss you, Joseph Matt.
My mother told me my memory was indeed faulty. He never asked me to walk with him; instead, he asked me to hug him during dinner. I said I’d hug him “tomorrow”.
But I did, apparently, want to see him in the hospital; it was my mother and grandmother who decided I shouldn’t see him in that state.
<3
Thank you for sharing.