Signs from the grave? Or just weird men
Grief is a strange thing, and men are really talkative today
This morning, I woke up thinking about my dead grandfather. He’s been gone for a long time now, but there are days where I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s the “what if” aspect that bothers me the most and keeps me awake. What if he would’ve been around for longer, known my friends, and read my more recent writing? What would he think of it? Would we still be writing and reading together? Why did I not read his writing earlier, so I could tell him how much I admired him? Why couldn’t he have stayed? Today and many others, I wake up resenting the universe and whatever higher power there is for taking my grandfather before I could tell him how much he inspired me, before we could become even closer than we already were. The light he left behind is so bright, and sometimes serves as my only fuel for continuing to write. However, I can’t help but imagine how much brighter my life would be if he were still here. I can’t stop myself from thinking, “what if?” I think that’s one of the hardest parts of grief- not knowing how things would’ve turned out. When someone exits our lives or passes, we usually think about all of the wonderful things they missed and every positive aspect of their character, which makes the grieving process harder. Sometimes, grief becomes anger, but sometimes it conceals it completely.
This morning, I woke up at 6:30 to a puppy sleeping on my pillow. I sat up to see the beautiful 80 pound yellow lab who I’m watching sleeping at the end of the bed, and his sister, a small three-legged cat, sleeping on the other end of the bed. I fed them all breakfast, along with the bearded dragon, and rode my bike over to another house, where I am watching a dog and cat. Double housesitting is serious stuff, but my bike makes it easy. The dog at the second house is still young and has lots of energy, so I decided to take him on a long walk. Immediately, when we began to walk through the park, I realized that my quiet, peaceful morning was no more. Everyone was calling him, dogs ran up to him, reuniting with one of their morning friends. I had forgotten about the daily dog gathering, and now it was too late to escape. I let him off leash (which I was extremely nervous about- he’s fast) and he immediately began running laps around the park. Three other dogs were chasing him, and after a while, he laid down, panting before getting up and running for ten more minutes and chasing the orange ball we brought. I introduced myself to the circle of people who had also brought their dogs to the park, at 7:00 am. They all looked fairly awake and put together, and I was there barefoot in silk pajama shorts and a tee shirt, probably looking hungover (I wasn’t, I just look like that for my first hour of consciousness).
I explained my relationship to the dog’s family and told them I’d be watching him for the next few days. One man sat on a park bench with his old golden retriever rolled over on the ground, while he played his ukulele and sang as if trying to hypnotize the dog. My bag was next to him, so I sat down to take it and get the dog’s leash before we left. He introduced himself, and asked about the dog and how long I was watching him. He asked if I watched/walked dogs regularly, to which I replied yes, and he immediately asked for my phone number. I gave it to him, and he talked to me for about 10 minutes about his dog, Lindsay, and his past horror stories with drunken dog sitters. I promised him I would not get blackout drunk at his house if he hired me, and he chuckled and shook my hand before I attempted to leave for the fourth time that morning. Finally, we walked back, and I fed the dog and cat, who both were eager for breakfast. I went back to my house to take a shower and get dressed, and returned back to the house I stayed the night at to go on my second dog walk of the day.
I was hoping this walk would be a bit calmer. I put my headphones in and listened to my June playlist (linked below this paragraph), which has to be one of my favorite monthly playlists so far. I am in an era of discovering new music constantly, and it has been pretty wonderful but also overwhelming. I have found that like anything, there is too much to consume and not enough time! Books and music are both that way for me- sources of joy, but there’s also some sadness in knowing I’ll never find certain songs or read hundreds of incredible books. Again, wondering what could have been and grieving what we will never know, seem to be common themes lately. I used to resent and compress these feelings, but lately, I have found it easier to just let them pass over me like clouds. Letting myself feel the more negative emotions and sitting with them, as well as bathing in small victories and moments of joy, are equally important to me right now.
I decided to stop by The Nook on my walk with Bruno (the dog), a new wine bar which is now also a coffee and little breakfast spot in the mornings, which I love. Overpriced coffee and sweet treats are so important to me, and I am convinced that my state of being is determined by if I get my little sweet treat that day. I got an oat milk latte with lavender (yes, I go to a liberal arts school) and Nutella toast, and fed Bruno the pieces of banana that were on top of it. Right after I got my toast, a man probably in his late 50s or early 60s (I might be aging him a little) walked into the restaurant, greeting me on his way in, as I was sitting outside. He asked to pet Bruno, and then sat at a smaller table behind mine. He asked me questions about Bruno (most of which I could not answer since Bruno is not my dog, so I made up answers) and then started talking about himself. I ended up telling him I go to Lewis & Clark College, and he knew it and began a rant about their expedition and how “significant” it was, most of which I tuned out for. He was kind, though, and our conversation went well (minus Lewis and Clark). His friend arrived then, and I waved and turned back to my food and Bruno, assuming he would focus his attention on his friend. He then told his friend my name and where I went to school, and they both talked to me for a while. They were there to try to sell their new brand of coffee to The Nook, and when Bruno and I left, they said they would be there most mornings and hoped to see me. I waved, and we walked back to the house.
I couldn’t help but laugh, as I had planned on having a peaceful morning, and likely not talking to a single person. I ended up talking to three men extensively, all who initiated conversation with me. I’m not a big fan of men lately. The summer heat seems to make them even bigger assholes than normal. Yesterday, I was screamed at while on my bike by a man, telling me I looked good and blasting his music while driving away after I pretended to hear him. I was wearing a dress, and changed into my dad’s tee shirt. Feeling uncomfortable blocks away from your own home is not a good feeling, and I wanted to scream back at him that the dress was not for him. One of the things I despise about many men is that when a female-presenting person dresses well, they assume that it’s for them. I can guarantee it never is.
Anyways, the timing of that incident last night and all of my conversations with men who looked pretty similar to that one this morning, before 10am, felt strange. All of the people I interacted with seemed friendly, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever done the same thing to someone. The guy at the coffee shop told me immediately that he had two kids, as if it was a disclaimer. All of it was full of irony and strange, but definitely added a bit of a plot to my morning. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a little joke my grandpa was playing on me from whatever afterlife he’s currently in. Honestly, I kind of hope it was. I like to think that he sends me people to talk to when I’m alone, on mornings I would have spent with him if he were here. Nobody, no presence, no amount of light will ever make up for my grandfather’s absence, and no part of me will ever stop missing him. But, I know he’s around, and if I have to make things up in my head to believe that, I will. Having remnants of him is much better than having nothing at all.
My grandfather told my dad before he died that all he wanted was for me to remember him. He has absolutely nothing to worry about.
xoxox,
B
Teary eyed right now. 😘
Love this and you!