Grandpa

My grandfather is dying and I’m not so sure how I feel about this. That probably sounds harsh and uncaring but that’s not the case at all. I barely know this man. I could come up with a million excuses as to why we aren’t close, like the fact that he has 9 children and 32 grandchildren and it takes a lot of love to spread around when you’ve got that big of a family, but honestly that’s not the case. We’re just not a close nit family and that’s the end of it. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have fond but weird memories of him as a child. One of my favorites is whenever we saw him he would ask us in his southern Louisiana draw if we wanted some of grandpa’s candy. Of course we said yes, and he’d reach into his pouch and pull out a little Perique tobacco. It took us a few times but we finally learned to never accept candy from grandpa. He’s a rebel at heart and still mad that the south didn’t win. To listen to him talk there is no greater place then Louisiana. God own little slice of heaven if you ask him. I went there once for vacation and it scared the shit out of me. Swamps, alligators, snakes, muddy water, hot as hell, yet beautiful at the same time. I can see why he loves it but I’m happy to live in California.

My grandfather spent the majority of the weekend at St Josephs. His heart is giving out and he doesn’t have much longer to live. This makes me sad for my mother. I can’t imagine losing my own father and I can’t even begin to grasp what each of his nine children are going through. We all know that with life comes death yet it doesn’t make it any easier.

I sick. Which means I was unable to see him while he was at the hospital; I feel a tremendous amount of guilt over this. Like I’m letting him down, myself down, my entire family down even though we barely know each other this is a natural reaction I suppose but it still breaks my heart. I’m hoping to feel better by the weekend and make the 1+ drive to their house.