Wednesday, January 11, 2012

A Visit From A Dead Grandpa


Me and Grandpa Oaks.

I told my publisher I'd been in the same nightgown for three days. Sorry to say, it's true. The list is long, the deadlines are looming, and thank God, I'm not out to win a beauty contest. For me, poor hygiene and writing deadlines go hand-in-hand. My poor husband, what that man puts up with. But after turning in my final draft, it was like poking a hole in a balloon. The pressure was gone, at least for the moment. Time for a shower, clean clothes, shave my legs, and a little make up. And some sleep.

Last night I had a dream about my grandfather. How many times in a week do you think about your grandfather? I'll bet not a whole lot. I suppose that depends on how well you knew him. I haven't seen my grandfather in, oh, I don't know, twenty years maybe. Maybe longer. I'm talking about my mother's father. I've talked a lot about my father's father. The coal miner. But my mom's father worked in the steel mills. He was hard of hearing and a bit mysterious. He divorced my grandmother when he was in his 60's. He should've divorced her years earlier. Anyway, that's another story.

But Grandpa's past is sketchy. I know he served in the Navy, grew up in Alabama and Tennessee, and loved baseball. He said he saw Satchel Page play once. And it's a well known fact, that grandpa drank more than he should have. Probably because of my grandmother. I can still see his face. It came to me nice and clear last night in my dream. He had a sweet face. Big cheeks. A great laugh. And he loved my mother. My mother has his eyes. I think he loved all of his kids. I have a feeling he was a bit of a simpleton but nobody said as much.

In my dream he spoke to me, but I can't remember what he said. All I can remember is seeing his face light up as he walked into a room where I was writing behind a desk.

His name was Claude. I didn't go see him as much as I should have. I don't even remember when he died. There wasn't even a funeral. But I found myself missing him today.

He was a good grandpa to me and I loved him. I hope he knows that. Somehow, I think he does.

If you're a writer, get up from your computer and stretch, take a shower, change your clothes. You never know who is coming to visit. Even in your dreams.

 


I miss you Grandpa.

Blessings to you and yours.

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