Post by sunsetsites on Apr 24, 2008 14:16:09 GMT 10
Here is a short story of mine called Phone Call:
My dad and I were just about to go outside to take pictures of the truck we were selling to post them on the internet until we were interrupted by a phone call. I mistakenly thought it was going to be one of my friends, like my parents did, but we were wrong.
It was my cousin Leo.
Leo lived in Germany and it was about 2 in the morning there at that particular time.
“He’s dead. Oh, my gosh,” my father said after up the phone.
It took me a minute to comprehend it. My eyes got watery. My mom was already crying somewhat loudly and my dad continued talking on the phone with my aunt.
He was dead.
My grandfather was dead.
Suddenly, tears started streaming down my cheeks and my insides were aching. I didn’t even expect it.
Grandpa had broken his hip and being at the old age he was, he couldn’t take the pain. He had gone to the hospital and got treated, but ever since Grandma died, he’s never been the same. Although whenever he saw me when I visited him he was thrilled, he was never the same. He missed her and I knew he wanted to die, but the idea never entered my thoughts much. Only one time. Then I cried silently so my parents wouldn’t think there’s something wrong.
But there was something wrong and I knew it all along. I knew that if he wanted to die, I would have to let go, and I was prepared to-to a very small extent-but now I realize that no matter how hard you try, you can’t be prepared at all for things like this.
It was like a reenactment of Grandma’s death. ‘Course, the reason for his death was different, but it all stung the same.
I crawled to my mom’s lap, silly enough as it may seem for some, and cried. After a minute or two I got up and picked up the phone to listen to the rest of the conversation.
It stung much worse than alcohol on a cut. It hurt worse than being beaten up. It shocked me more than a surprise party.
I was actually hopeful before this. I thought he would get better. Leo informed us that he was able to stand up now-not for long, but for a while.
I put down the phone and prayed to him.
“Grandpa,-- I just want to say I love you--I know you’re in a better place,” I whispered, breathing the last word. “I know you’re with Grandma and you’re happy, but I want to let you know--I’m really gonna miss you. I love you.” The tears stopped near the end, but the pain didn’t decrease.
Then my mom came and took the phone from me, caressing my back. Then I heard dad say about the funeral. Tears struck again and I went into the bathroom to sob in private.
After the phone call was over, I sauntered into the living room and laid on the couch, weeping softly. My dad came over to me and stroked my arm.
“We’ll take the pictures tomorrow then,” he spoke.
I nodded, unable to speak without my voice breaking.
“I’m going to buy some beer. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Dad drank weekly unfortunately, but he wasn’t an alcoholic luckily. That didn’t ease the pain.
I laid motionless on the couch, weeping.
Then my mom came into the room.
“You see. My dream in a way was kind of a sign. It all relates.”
At that moment I remembered how dreams can affect and relate to your life.
“We were visiting Johm and then Aunette told us that he died, but then I said that he was outside and that it was not possible,” was what my mom told me about her dream.
How strange, I thought.
I wiped the tears from my eyes uselessly-the tears wouldn’t cease to come because other that.
I wouldn’t get to see his smiling face. I wouldn’t get to hear his thrilled voice. I didn’t even have a picture of him.
So I wiped the tears from my eyes again, which were hurting from all the crying.
All I could think was, I love you Grandpa.
I was going to miss him, that was obvious, I just wasn’t sure if I could handle it, but then I remembered what happened when Grandma died. I could handle it. It would hurt to think about him for a while, but I would survive, because I knew that’s what he wanted. The pain of loosing Grandma didn’t affect his feelings and outlooks.
I love you, Grandpa, I thought again.
My dad and I were just about to go outside to take pictures of the truck we were selling to post them on the internet until we were interrupted by a phone call. I mistakenly thought it was going to be one of my friends, like my parents did, but we were wrong.
It was my cousin Leo.
Leo lived in Germany and it was about 2 in the morning there at that particular time.
“He’s dead. Oh, my gosh,” my father said after up the phone.
It took me a minute to comprehend it. My eyes got watery. My mom was already crying somewhat loudly and my dad continued talking on the phone with my aunt.
He was dead.
My grandfather was dead.
Suddenly, tears started streaming down my cheeks and my insides were aching. I didn’t even expect it.
Grandpa had broken his hip and being at the old age he was, he couldn’t take the pain. He had gone to the hospital and got treated, but ever since Grandma died, he’s never been the same. Although whenever he saw me when I visited him he was thrilled, he was never the same. He missed her and I knew he wanted to die, but the idea never entered my thoughts much. Only one time. Then I cried silently so my parents wouldn’t think there’s something wrong.
But there was something wrong and I knew it all along. I knew that if he wanted to die, I would have to let go, and I was prepared to-to a very small extent-but now I realize that no matter how hard you try, you can’t be prepared at all for things like this.
It was like a reenactment of Grandma’s death. ‘Course, the reason for his death was different, but it all stung the same.
I crawled to my mom’s lap, silly enough as it may seem for some, and cried. After a minute or two I got up and picked up the phone to listen to the rest of the conversation.
It stung much worse than alcohol on a cut. It hurt worse than being beaten up. It shocked me more than a surprise party.
I was actually hopeful before this. I thought he would get better. Leo informed us that he was able to stand up now-not for long, but for a while.
I put down the phone and prayed to him.
“Grandpa,-- I just want to say I love you--I know you’re in a better place,” I whispered, breathing the last word. “I know you’re with Grandma and you’re happy, but I want to let you know--I’m really gonna miss you. I love you.” The tears stopped near the end, but the pain didn’t decrease.
Then my mom came and took the phone from me, caressing my back. Then I heard dad say about the funeral. Tears struck again and I went into the bathroom to sob in private.
After the phone call was over, I sauntered into the living room and laid on the couch, weeping softly. My dad came over to me and stroked my arm.
“We’ll take the pictures tomorrow then,” he spoke.
I nodded, unable to speak without my voice breaking.
“I’m going to buy some beer. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Dad drank weekly unfortunately, but he wasn’t an alcoholic luckily. That didn’t ease the pain.
I laid motionless on the couch, weeping.
Then my mom came into the room.
“You see. My dream in a way was kind of a sign. It all relates.”
At that moment I remembered how dreams can affect and relate to your life.
“We were visiting Johm and then Aunette told us that he died, but then I said that he was outside and that it was not possible,” was what my mom told me about her dream.
How strange, I thought.
I wiped the tears from my eyes uselessly-the tears wouldn’t cease to come because other that.
I wouldn’t get to see his smiling face. I wouldn’t get to hear his thrilled voice. I didn’t even have a picture of him.
So I wiped the tears from my eyes again, which were hurting from all the crying.
All I could think was, I love you Grandpa.
I was going to miss him, that was obvious, I just wasn’t sure if I could handle it, but then I remembered what happened when Grandma died. I could handle it. It would hurt to think about him for a while, but I would survive, because I knew that’s what he wanted. The pain of loosing Grandma didn’t affect his feelings and outlooks.
I love you, Grandpa, I thought again.
Great job on it 
