As I eavesdropped on my mother pacing back and forth in our kitchen on that hot summer day in 1993, I anxiously contemplated what her conversation was regarding. The expression on her face appeared serious and cautious; this phone call was not like her other daily phone calls. She wasn’t rehashing how great Charles Barkley’s calves looked in the Suns game, or venting about her experience with a patient at her work. I knew this phone call meant that somehow our lives were about to change. At last, her phone call ended. After hanging up the phone, my mom looked at me and concluded “I guess your dad’s father will be coming to stay with us. He will be here soon and you can call him ‘Grandpa Bill’”. It was what my mother neglected to say that made
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My dad was raised by his grandparents and only saw his father on random occasions which frequently ended in a dysfunctional disaster. Of course, my parents were hesitant to have him come stay with us but felt they had no choice due to his recent stroke and state of displacement. I, on the other hand, was anticipating this to be a magical experience. Lost time was going to be made up for, forgiveness granted, and bonds would be created so strong they would rival the closest of family ties. I imagined how our great reunification would unfold, while setting up my lawn chair at the curb of our long driveway. Waiting for his taxi to arrive, I planned our first few moments together. Surely, I thought, he would pick me up and spin me around, telling me how I was the most beautiful granddaughter he could ever dream of. We would spend our summer days playing board games and telling funny stories. Perhaps, we’d even take an occasional fishing …show more content…
Occasionally, he would return home courtesy of a police escort, appearing fairly irritated that his adventure had been impeded upon. Once, he brought back Reece’s Peanut Butter cups for himself. In a startling moment of half-hearted generosity, he called out for my older brother, Adam, to come have a piece of his candy. My parents managed to convince me that when Grandpa Bill said “Adam” he actually meant for all three of us kids to come get a candy – and to his credit, he did succumb and give us one as well. It wasn’t until years later that I realized he never did actually offer me candy, or bother to learn my name, or for that matter, speak directly to me. Nonetheless, that moment of guilt-tripping a peanut butter cup from him turned out to be the fondest memory of his presence in my
My dad was raised by his grandparents and only saw his father on random occasions which frequently ended in a dysfunctional disaster. Of course, my parents were hesitant to have him come stay with us but felt they had no choice due to his recent stroke and state of displacement. I, on the other hand, was anticipating this to be a magical experience. Lost time was going to be made up for, forgiveness granted, and bonds would be created so strong they would rival the closest of family ties. I imagined how our great reunification would unfold, while setting up my lawn chair at the curb of our long driveway. Waiting for his taxi to arrive, I planned our first few moments together. Surely, I thought, he would pick me up and spin me around, telling me how I was the most beautiful granddaughter he could ever dream of. We would spend our summer days playing board games and telling funny stories. Perhaps, we’d even take an occasional fishing …show more content…
Occasionally, he would return home courtesy of a police escort, appearing fairly irritated that his adventure had been impeded upon. Once, he brought back Reece’s Peanut Butter cups for himself. In a startling moment of half-hearted generosity, he called out for my older brother, Adam, to come have a piece of his candy. My parents managed to convince me that when Grandpa Bill said “Adam” he actually meant for all three of us kids to come get a candy – and to his credit, he did succumb and give us one as well. It wasn’t until years later that I realized he never did actually offer me candy, or bother to learn my name, or for that matter, speak directly to me. Nonetheless, that moment of guilt-tripping a peanut butter cup from him turned out to be the fondest memory of his presence in my