My sister called this evening to tell me that my Grandfather has had a hemorrhagic stroke. Bleeding in the brain that appears to be spontaneous, unlike earlier this year when he had a fall and hit his head. I wish I could sort out the emotion of all of this. The one thing that confuses me is the idea of karma. How is it that a man who becomes confused, potentially to the point of not recognizing his family or even understanding surroundings, can be living out some predetermined karma? He isn't of the same mind. I guess I just don't get how it's useful to his soul. I am of no authority on any of this, but I almost wonder if it's more for those around him. He wasn't a horrible man. He sometimes wasn't very nice or especially loving. He was a self made success in his working years. He provided for his children and his grandchildren. When he does die, I wonder what people will say about him. People that I have never met. Was he a different kind of man with them? Will they describe a man that I never knew?
It makes me think of my own mortality. At the end of my time- today or 50 years from now- I wonder what I will have been. What was my Grandfather like at 35? Was he like me with a quick wit, a perverted sense of humor and sometimes heartless approach to getting the job done? Did he move away from all of his family at a young age to find success? And when he found that success, did it change him? Did he regret? And how did the tide of life turn him from an absolutely non-spiritual man, to a devout church attendee, and what did he find inside of those sacred walls?
Should I die young- will my friends and family gather around and all relish in the memory of the same person? Will I be described consistently by those who knew me? Of course there are those who have hunkered down with me through my darkest days and who were there to nourish my soul, and they have an understanding of my deepest soul that others might not. Yes- I am who I am with everyone. I am still the competitive girl from high school. I am still outgoing without a bashful bone in my body. I am still the romantic that hopes for love like those found in the movies. I still work hard, sleep with a box fan, and prefer to drive the car than be the passenger. I like to lead not follow. I like to laugh and joke and be lighthearted as often as humanly possible. I also like to dissect the inner workings of my mind and emotions. I still find great joy in deep conversations about life, love, loss and living to our fullest human capacity. I am tolerant when it is called for and I am unmoving when it is necessary. I have found happiness in all types of places and I still search to find it fully within my own heart. Eiffel Tower, Great Barrier Reef- a beautiful lake in Maine. My current quest in life is to find it in the everyday of life. I am so blessed to have a great job, a loving handful of friends that I would do anything for and vice versa, a family who rallies around to share in simple conversation and an easy afternoon. I enjoy simple luxuries- nice sheets, good food, and the company of people who are worth the effort.
Dear Grandpa,
One of my earliest memories of you was on the 4th of July out at Boggs, when you guys lived in the trailer. You held me on your lap as the men were putting off fireworks in the road. I hated it. It was so loud and hurt my ears. You told me it hurt yours too. I have that one memory of you being protective of me. I cherish it. You used to always give us $20 each when you saw us, until I was in my late teens. You always seemed larger than life to me when I was younger. I remember when you and Grandma's friends would play a card game with nickels. I remember when you moved from that trailer to a house in Jasper. At Grandma's funeral, I remember a man grieving for the loss of a woman he'd known since his childhood, but who could only articulate how much you were losing in relationship to your own life. "Who would do your laundry now?" you asked.
I was taller than you by then. I began to see you as the older man that you had become. Now, I have seen you hold your Great Grandson and I have seen the wheel of life turn on you. Your best days are behind you. You reportedly have good days and bad days. You shuffle your feet when you walk. You fight hard to keep some form of control, but what I see is a man that knows his time is near and I can't begin to understand how scary that is. Maybe a stroke is in fact a blessing. To save you from the reality that you would never have been able to live with. The man with a sharp mind that is receding may be glad to go, so as not to endure a life of helplessness and dependence. I want to thank you Grandpa for everything I have learned from you. I want to tell you I was always proud to say I was Andy Albertson's granddaughter and I still am. I love you Grandpa. Then and now.
Always,
Brooke
