Coming to Terms
January 13, 2011
Yesterday was my birthday. I’m 21 now, and I don’t feel any different. Four years ago, on my birthday, my grandfather died. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a guy, or if I was just insensitive in that regard, or if I just felt numb, but whatever the reason, it didn’t really hit me at the time.
In my journey towards being a man, I have found myself replacing the garb of my younger years with slightly more traditional and what I and others may reference as ‘classier’ attire. This has meant ties, handkerchiefs, undershirts, etc. This may seem irrelevant to what I said earlier, but it has been the catalyst for the death of my grandfather to finally hit me. My grandmother hasn’t had the heart or courage or what have you to go through his belongings and clear it out. I have taken it upon myself to start going through some of his things and grabbing the ties, handkerchiefs, and even the old undershirts that he never took out of the package. I found an old watch that he never wore, and a travel case for toiletries. I am not acquiring these objects out of greed or ill-conceived self-centered desire. I do so to honour the man who looked upon me with the eye of a grandfather, and whom saw in me the potential to achieve the kind of greatness he had himself achieved. I do so with poignant regret that he could not see me as a man, not a selfish teenager, or he couldn’t meet my first serious girlfriend. It is through these objects that I remember who my grandfather was, and I derive from that a profound nostalgia that borderlines despair. In this last little while I have come to truly miss my grandfather and that is what spurs my lamentation.
I would urge you to cherish what time you may have left with your grandparents. Once they’re gone it’s too late to get to know them.
