Reflections
Mar. 6th, 2004 03:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wordinistaDon't know where I'm going with this. Possible sentimental drivel ahead. Beware.
My grandpa and I don't hug.
It's a weird thing between us. We both shy away from displays of affection, and when we do have displays of affection, it sometimes feels odd, forced. Sometimes, because I'm so much taller than he is now, I'll drop a kiss on the top of his head, which he shaves bald (once a Marine, always a Marine, I guess). I have to make sure that I'm not wearing lipstick though, because it's so seldom he ever looks at himself in the mirror, he'd walk around all day with lip-prints on his head. It's happened before.
He and I are eerily similar in some ways -- vastly different in others. He and I can sit in complete silence for hours on end -- but not that annoying, uncomfortable silence that makes a single bead of sweat trickle down his back. It's the silence of two people who don't want to clutter the air with small talk. It drives my mother crazy. It used to drive my grandmother nuts, too.
Our birtdays, most of the time, fall six days apart. On a Leap Year, we're exactly a week apart. It's a funny thing that happens in our family. My mother and grandmother's birthdays were a week apart. Two of my uncles are a week apart too. I guess it happens in big families -- more people, more birthdays, so the odds get pretty good. Maybe that's why I feel closer to him than most. Right now, family is over -- loud, talkative relatives, here to celebrate his birthday, which was yesterday (he's 82 this year). And where is he? I'm not entirely sure. I think he's in hiding, much like I am. Neither of us is big on ceremony. We're quiet, most of the time, and come off as standoffish in a crowded room. He's cranky, grouchy, and prickly, and in a debate, will merely talk louder until you acquiesce. And yet, I look at these traits in him with fond affection.
For some reason, I'm feeling particularly contemplative right now, which you've figured out, I'm sure.
I guess it might be because this year marks a lot of things. This May will mark the tenth anniversary of my grandmother's passing. I have a feeling it's going to be rough for him this year -- rougher than usual. He's always been quiet and stoic -- he doesn't emote. I think that's indicative of his generation as well as his military background. He doesn't show it overtly, but to someone who knows him, it's clear when something's bothering him. Maybe it's clear to me because I behave much the same way -- I throw myself into a project, refusing to come up for air until the hurt has passed a little bit. So I worry.
I worry a lot about him. He's 82, after all. And sharp as a tack. And that's part of the problem -- he doesn't THINK he's 82. He tried hanging Christmas lights alone this year and fell off the bottom rung of the ladder. My mother's words to him after the incident? "You are in SO much trouble when Kara hears about this." I yelled at him -- of course. He expected it. ;)
We have the oddest relationship, though. It's actually quite shocking to people who don't know us. We carp and snipe and bitch at each other; we bicker over silly things, and it becomes a battle of wits as we throw zingers at each other. I've been scolded by more people -- my friends, in-laws who don't know me -- all of them saying that I should show my grandfather more respect. I just stare at them blankly -- of course I respect him. He's my grandfather. Duh.
We don't do it as much as we used to. In fact, it used to be a regular dinnertime occurrance -- my grandmother loved it. It was entertainment for her. We'd zing each other, and she'd laugh and laugh. I think it doesn't happen so much anymore because of the fact that she's gone. No one's around to enjoy our efforts. Or so it seems, I guess.
I didn't expect this to turn so melancholy. Heh. Maybe I'll go snark at him. I think he might need it. I think I do. :)
My grandpa and I don't hug.
It's a weird thing between us. We both shy away from displays of affection, and when we do have displays of affection, it sometimes feels odd, forced. Sometimes, because I'm so much taller than he is now, I'll drop a kiss on the top of his head, which he shaves bald (once a Marine, always a Marine, I guess). I have to make sure that I'm not wearing lipstick though, because it's so seldom he ever looks at himself in the mirror, he'd walk around all day with lip-prints on his head. It's happened before.
He and I are eerily similar in some ways -- vastly different in others. He and I can sit in complete silence for hours on end -- but not that annoying, uncomfortable silence that makes a single bead of sweat trickle down his back. It's the silence of two people who don't want to clutter the air with small talk. It drives my mother crazy. It used to drive my grandmother nuts, too.
Our birtdays, most of the time, fall six days apart. On a Leap Year, we're exactly a week apart. It's a funny thing that happens in our family. My mother and grandmother's birthdays were a week apart. Two of my uncles are a week apart too. I guess it happens in big families -- more people, more birthdays, so the odds get pretty good. Maybe that's why I feel closer to him than most. Right now, family is over -- loud, talkative relatives, here to celebrate his birthday, which was yesterday (he's 82 this year). And where is he? I'm not entirely sure. I think he's in hiding, much like I am. Neither of us is big on ceremony. We're quiet, most of the time, and come off as standoffish in a crowded room. He's cranky, grouchy, and prickly, and in a debate, will merely talk louder until you acquiesce. And yet, I look at these traits in him with fond affection.
For some reason, I'm feeling particularly contemplative right now, which you've figured out, I'm sure.
I guess it might be because this year marks a lot of things. This May will mark the tenth anniversary of my grandmother's passing. I have a feeling it's going to be rough for him this year -- rougher than usual. He's always been quiet and stoic -- he doesn't emote. I think that's indicative of his generation as well as his military background. He doesn't show it overtly, but to someone who knows him, it's clear when something's bothering him. Maybe it's clear to me because I behave much the same way -- I throw myself into a project, refusing to come up for air until the hurt has passed a little bit. So I worry.
I worry a lot about him. He's 82, after all. And sharp as a tack. And that's part of the problem -- he doesn't THINK he's 82. He tried hanging Christmas lights alone this year and fell off the bottom rung of the ladder. My mother's words to him after the incident? "You are in SO much trouble when Kara hears about this." I yelled at him -- of course. He expected it. ;)
We have the oddest relationship, though. It's actually quite shocking to people who don't know us. We carp and snipe and bitch at each other; we bicker over silly things, and it becomes a battle of wits as we throw zingers at each other. I've been scolded by more people -- my friends, in-laws who don't know me -- all of them saying that I should show my grandfather more respect. I just stare at them blankly -- of course I respect him. He's my grandfather. Duh.
We don't do it as much as we used to. In fact, it used to be a regular dinnertime occurrance -- my grandmother loved it. It was entertainment for her. We'd zing each other, and she'd laugh and laugh. I think it doesn't happen so much anymore because of the fact that she's gone. No one's around to enjoy our efforts. Or so it seems, I guess.
I didn't expect this to turn so melancholy. Heh. Maybe I'll go snark at him. I think he might need it. I think I do. :)
