From the Imagination of Dr. Nicki: Real Life - Stories I Never Knew... Part 2

Right away, from the very beginning, Grandfather and I always discussed important matters. Like why the stars never fell out of the sky. Or where the moon went to sleep. Or how God celebrated the Sabbath. And the day my Grandmother died was no exception.

Everybody else was running around, covering the mirrors and getting the house ready for the days to come. Really it was Grandfather that should have had the least time for me of all – but there he was, as usual, with his thick mahogany gaze, ready to answer my insistent questions.

Grandmother Lollie had never really been my favorite. Always bustling around the steamy kitchen as if the head Rabbi himself were about to appear at every meal. No time for sweet hugs or lingering conversations. She was all business. I complained once to Grandfather and he right away sat me down, explaining how feeding and caring for the family was serious business and how lucky I was to have a Grandmother who knew that.

So after that I tried harder to see what he saw. I’d watch the chicken soup steam slap against her face as she bent to taste, and sit on a stool as she tried to teach me about the importance of wrapping the cabbage around the meat globs just right. But over and over I’d find it hard to listen. I’d find myself drifting off…focusing instead on the way the top of her body rested on the bottom like a shelf, or wondering if the poochy side of her jaw would just keep getting longer and longer until it fell onto her neck. I really don’t know why I couldn’t listen. She just always sounded to me like screechy music played on a rusty instrument. Not like Grandfather.     

Still, on this day of days, I could really see how much Grandfather loved his Lollie. Often before – especially when we talked about his family back in the old country - I’d noticed wet pools gathering in those dark eyes. But they always clung tightly – satisfied, it seemed, to wait to be called forward. Today, though, out the small pools fell - traveling softly down Grandfathers crinkled cheeks like drifting travelers.   

“Why do people die, Grandfather?” I whispered. It wasn’t that I cared who heard me – it was only that being up next to his beloved cheek like that, I thought, showed him how important he was to me.

“Because God loves us so that when our job here is done He calls us back into his arms,” he answered pushing back the errant curl that inched its way across my forehead.

“Well, I love you more than God does, so you he must let you stay here!” I replied brazenly.

“I will never truly leave you child. When my body has returned to God, you will remember me like a poem you always knew. I am in your blood and bones. Just as is my father and my father’s father and my mother and my mother’s mother, and so on. We can never forget where we have come from. We can only forget that we have known.”

“Is this a riddle, Grandfather?” I giggled. He smiled then, and kissed me on the forehead.

“It is time to go child. We must say goodbye to your Grandmother. She is waiting.”

It is years now since God, paying no attention to my great need, took Grandfather back into his arms. And to tell you the truth I’m still a little mad at him - at God that is. Still, I think Grandfather was right about the blood and bones business. Sometimes, even, I’ll smooth my right hand over the top of my left and I swear I can feel him there – flowing through my veins like life itself.