Regrets.
Regrets. I can't say that I have many, touch wood, but I do have a few. And one, especially, has been haunting me lately, for no apparent reason.
FnordIt must've been almost 20 years ago, and I was still a wee lad, who knew nothing about how the world, and especially life and death, worked. Sometimes people would just disappear, and I'd hardly notice, because hey, I was seven, everything is interesting when you're seven. When a puddle of water and a GI-Joe action figure can occupy your mind for several hours, a certain person never seeming to come over for a cup of coffee anymore goes by virtually unnoticed. The blissful ignorance of a child, blithely self-involved.
FnordI had two sets of grandparents at the time, as you do. One lived right around the corner, whom I therefore saw regularly, virtually every day, and the other lived a few towns over, whom I saw once in every few weeks. Both my grandfathers, as far as I can remember, were good, gruff men, with an acerbic sense of humour; they were good influences in my life.
FnordAnd then the grandfather living a few towns over, my father's father, died. As grandfathers are wont to do.
Now for the part I still, two decades on, regret.
FnordOne day, very shortly after his father had died, perhaps even before the funeral still, my father, never a very talkative man, came to me. Obviously grief-stricken, he approached me and reached out to me, tried to have a father-son talk about his own father. I cannot remember a single detail about the conversation, except that it happened.
FnordAnd I remember his final question.
FnordHe asked me for my thoughts on my grandfather, his father, whether or not I'd enjoyed his company, his presence in my life. I was maybe seven years old. I didn't know how to be cruel but I also didn't know how to be tactful. I thought about it for a second, and in my childlike ignorance, never realising the severity of the situation and vulnerability the question implied, I blurted out: "The other grandpa is much more fun."
FnordThe conversation ended there.
FnordHe might have thought nothing of it; he might have attributed it to my age and subsequently dismissed it; I'm sure he's probably long forgotten it. But somehow I haven't.
FnordSo, dad, just in case I hurt your feelings back then, I'm really sorry.
FnordIt must've been almost 20 years ago, and I was still a wee lad, who knew nothing about how the world, and especially life and death, worked. Sometimes people would just disappear, and I'd hardly notice, because hey, I was seven, everything is interesting when you're seven. When a puddle of water and a GI-Joe action figure can occupy your mind for several hours, a certain person never seeming to come over for a cup of coffee anymore goes by virtually unnoticed. The blissful ignorance of a child, blithely self-involved.
FnordI had two sets of grandparents at the time, as you do. One lived right around the corner, whom I therefore saw regularly, virtually every day, and the other lived a few towns over, whom I saw once in every few weeks. Both my grandfathers, as far as I can remember, were good, gruff men, with an acerbic sense of humour; they were good influences in my life.
FnordAnd then the grandfather living a few towns over, my father's father, died. As grandfathers are wont to do.
Now for the part I still, two decades on, regret.
FnordOne day, very shortly after his father had died, perhaps even before the funeral still, my father, never a very talkative man, came to me. Obviously grief-stricken, he approached me and reached out to me, tried to have a father-son talk about his own father. I cannot remember a single detail about the conversation, except that it happened.
FnordAnd I remember his final question.
FnordHe asked me for my thoughts on my grandfather, his father, whether or not I'd enjoyed his company, his presence in my life. I was maybe seven years old. I didn't know how to be cruel but I also didn't know how to be tactful. I thought about it for a second, and in my childlike ignorance, never realising the severity of the situation and vulnerability the question implied, I blurted out: "The other grandpa is much more fun."
FnordThe conversation ended there.
FnordHe might have thought nothing of it; he might have attributed it to my age and subsequently dismissed it; I'm sure he's probably long forgotten it. But somehow I haven't.
FnordSo, dad, just in case I hurt your feelings back then, I'm really sorry.
2 Comments:
Hey there stranger!
Sweet story. Kids say stupid stuff, I'm sure he realized that. Did he ever mention it again? I have this lingering regret about my paternal grandmother. I wasn't ever *that* close to her but I loved her in my own way and she loved me. We had a huge fight around my 11th/12th birthday (more to do with my dad and my parents' divorce etc, kids taking sides, all that) and we didn't speak for a couple years. Then she died. Wait, what was my point? Now I'm just sad. PS - I intend to steal your topic idea. My full story would make a good post lol. Take care! D
Aloha!
'WestVillageKid', huh? Has a nice ring to it.
Oh, and steal away, I'm all for plagiarism.
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