Do you know where you're going?
My grandfather is God-fearing. Not just your regular run of the mill God-fearing, but the type that relates everything back to God. For example, I remember years ago I was watching Melrose Place and he happened to be staying at my place. He watched for a while, then asked for a run down on who was who and what was going on. After that, I didn't get to follow much of the rest of the episode, because a discussion started, about how they shouldn't all fight and backstab and that love is more important and we're going to a better place.
My grandfather is 85 (or is it 87?) and hard of hearing, but he's very fit and active for his age. He grows his own vegies, is always travelling to visit someone somewhere, and always has a story to tell about, "remember Auntie whatshername from (some town) and that we went to her place when you and your brother were about 5?".
Some of my earliest memories are of my brother and I road tripping it with our grandfather in his little red Torana. We'd sit in the back seat and fight - at least until we were allowed to have a tube each of Sweetened Condensed Milk, and we'd be content.
I also remember he used to carry around what I called God pamphlets in his top shirt pocket - little palm-sized 4 page pamphlets preaching about all sorts of things. He never went anywhere without them and unsuspecting passers-by would be greeted with, "Do you know where you're going? Someone loves you." And my brother and I used to want the street to open up and swallow us whole.
He doesn't carry them anymore and the Torana has been sold. But he still travels about the place, going from state to state, visiting relatives (whose, I don't quite know) and friends.
And he calls me often. I suspect it's because he knows I'm not one for making trips to see my relatives a priority, so he enjoys the one sided phone conversations. One sided, because he can hardly hear, and he talks over the top of you in an attempt to say as much as he can in the few minutes of coin he's put into the local telephone box. You can be mid-sentence and suddenly there'll be, "ok then have a lovely day, bye bye Evie"...and he's gone.
When he asks if I know where I'm going to these days, I say, "Yes, I do. You just leave my name at the door when you get there, so they'll let me in". We laugh. As much as my brother and I get frustrated at these conversations (because most of them are very early on a Saturday or Sunday morning, because he's worked out it's the only time we're ever home), I know I'll miss them when they stop.
I suspect he'll be gone one day soon and no doubt he'll leave my name at the door when he gets to Heaven, just like he promised.
My grandfather is 85 (or is it 87?) and hard of hearing, but he's very fit and active for his age. He grows his own vegies, is always travelling to visit someone somewhere, and always has a story to tell about, "remember Auntie whatshername from (some town) and that we went to her place when you and your brother were about 5?".
Some of my earliest memories are of my brother and I road tripping it with our grandfather in his little red Torana. We'd sit in the back seat and fight - at least until we were allowed to have a tube each of Sweetened Condensed Milk, and we'd be content.
I also remember he used to carry around what I called God pamphlets in his top shirt pocket - little palm-sized 4 page pamphlets preaching about all sorts of things. He never went anywhere without them and unsuspecting passers-by would be greeted with, "Do you know where you're going? Someone loves you." And my brother and I used to want the street to open up and swallow us whole.
He doesn't carry them anymore and the Torana has been sold. But he still travels about the place, going from state to state, visiting relatives (whose, I don't quite know) and friends.
And he calls me often. I suspect it's because he knows I'm not one for making trips to see my relatives a priority, so he enjoys the one sided phone conversations. One sided, because he can hardly hear, and he talks over the top of you in an attempt to say as much as he can in the few minutes of coin he's put into the local telephone box. You can be mid-sentence and suddenly there'll be, "ok then have a lovely day, bye bye Evie"...and he's gone.
When he asks if I know where I'm going to these days, I say, "Yes, I do. You just leave my name at the door when you get there, so they'll let me in". We laugh. As much as my brother and I get frustrated at these conversations (because most of them are very early on a Saturday or Sunday morning, because he's worked out it's the only time we're ever home), I know I'll miss them when they stop.
I suspect he'll be gone one day soon and no doubt he'll leave my name at the door when he gets to Heaven, just like he promised.
posted by E in Oz at 2:32 pm
these thoughts escaped my brain at 2:32 pm
1 Comments:
Now I'm all sniffly.
((hugs))
R
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