Читать книгу STILL STANDING - M.G. Crisci - Страница 5

― Gerard Way

1987…

When you are a kid, there is always that one person you look up to, aside from your loving parents. Mine was Gramps Albert.

I’m sure every granddaughter puts their grandfather on a pedestal, but my Gramps was truly special in every way.

Picture little Sophie in Roald Dahl’s novel, The Big Friendly Giant—a girl who believes she can save the world with the benevolent BFG.

Gramps was no BFG, but he was a dapper man with a heart bigger than the universe, a smile that glistened, and a sense of humor that knew no bounds.

“Come here, my angel, sit on my knee,” Gramps always insisted whenever I went to visit.

I would run for cuddles in his armchair in front of the fire, or as he sat on the kitchen stool. I’d snuggle into his warm woolen V-neck jumper that smelt of Old Spice. His love made me feel all was right with the world, and always would be. He taught me the importance of unconditional love.

Gramps took pride in his appearance. I can still picture him standing in front of the kitchen wall mirror, combing his hair carefully into place—a man of pride. “It doesn’t cost much to look your best, just a few minutes of your time, and a little attention to detail.” Gramps passed his appearance-consciousness onto me; I’ve always tried to look my best, dress smart, and be pristine for any occasion.

~

Gramps immensely enjoyed party games like Bingo, Admiral Nelson, and the £1 game that allowed him to indulge his charming sense of humor. During Admiral Nelson, participants were blindfolded and told they were meeting the great war hero himself. Their hand was guided to a leg, stopping at the knee, and told dynamite caused its loss, the same with an arm to an elbow, which was lost in a duel.

Finally, he would say that, at the Battle of Waterloo, his right eye was lost. Our finger was shoved into an orange to mimic an eye socket!

Trust me, it was very convincing, as was the belief that we would keep the £1 at the bottom of a bowl if we could grab it in one attempt.

Of course, while blindfolded, the bowl would be swapped for the turkey’s giblets and gravy—yuck! Those games taught me a new feeling; repulsion. But I did enjoy being teased.

Gramps’ all-time favorite game was the “dribbling cup.” Unbeknown to me, at seven, he took a drinking glass with an etched design and drilled some tiny holes that were virtually invisible. The idea was that when you tried to drink from it; the liquid would spill everywhere.

“My glass is broken!” I cried, embarrassed.

“Don’t be silly. You’re just dribbling. Turn the glass to the other side,” Gramps answered, straight-faced.

I took another sip and another. Each time, the drink would spill over my chin. So, everybody in the room was having a chuckle at my expense. When he saw I was at my wits’ end, he revealed the trick and a little bit of wisdom. “Life is for living and laughing,” he said. I adored that he wanted to have fun with me.

Somewhere along the way, I began to take life too seriously. I forgot to laugh at my silly little foibles. As you’ll soon discover, I’ve strayed far from Gramps’ advice. The good news is I now recognize that.

~

As a kid, I always looked forward to the family summer holidays with Nan and Gramps, which usually coincided with his birthday on June 27. Gramps would swap his usual smart attire for a polo shirt and shorts and down cold Carlsberg pints in the scorching sunshine with Dad. Then there were the wine tasting trips where there was no limit. Bottle after bottle was opened. Watching adults get sloshed then walk in the heat clinking bottles like teenagers, amused Shelly and me.

~

My most memorable Gramps’ moment—one that still brings a tear to my eye—was him teaching me to waltz.

I was about eight at the time. We danced at Gramps’ Ruby wedding party (40 years). I can still picture the smile on his face. My hair was curled, and I wore a green and black glitter taffeta dress and black patent shoes. He smiled, took my hand, and we stepped onto the dance floor beneath a large mirror disco ball. I was nervous and self-conscious. In fact, I was totally clueless. I didn’t know what a Waltz was, let alone, the dance steps.

“It’s easy, just follow my lead,” Gramps said.

Then he took me in his arms, and we danced. It was magical. All was right with the world. Gramps made me feel like a special princess and his smile, as we glided across the dance floor, melted my heart. I wanted the moment to last forever!

~

Gramps always made me believe there was nothing I couldn’t do or achieve. The speech he gave at my 18^th birthday said it all.

“I could pay tribute to Vicki’s many gifts—her appearance, her charm, and her caring attitude towards others,” he said, “but I’m sure most of you know about those.

“I’d like to recognize her outstanding academic achievements at school and her first-class reports since starting technical college.

“In addition to her studies, Vicki has undertaken part-time jobs, and her employers have all spoken very highly of her.

“Finally, I’d like to wish her well and success in her ambitions and aspirations for university, which she will start later this year.

“Please raise a toast to my dear sweet granddaughter!”

That autumn (fall), I became the first person in the family to go to university. I packed my belongings, left home, said a tearful goodbye, and entered an exciting new life chapter.

As he and I hugged, he whispered, “Make Gramps proud.” We both had tears in our eyes. All I ever wanted to do was to make him proud, and I did for a very long time. God, I idolized him!

Sadly, Gramps passed away in 2010 at the age of 72, after a short, sudden illness. He deserved to live far longer. Both Auntie Sandra and Uncle Reg had died during my childhood, but I did not recall how it felt. Losing Gramps was an entirely different matter. It was traumatic. It felt as though someone had punched a fist through my chest and torn my heart out with their bare hands. That was the first time my body and mind was consumed by grief and despair. I’d lost a part of me and life would never ever be the same again.

One of the biggest regrets in my life to date is I never got to dance at my wedding with Gramps. If only I could go back in time and relieve that night; Waltz as we’d done in the past. His early departure had a traumatic effect on my life for years to come. I’m still angry and bitter with the angels who stole my Gramps from me. I’ll never get over it.

Gramps’ early demise taught me that sometimes life just happens. We cannot change fate. So, when we lose those we love and cherish long before their time, some of us learn to weather life’s inevitable storms, while some of us get terribly lost in the very same storms.