the last time i saw my grandfather was in his room at the nursing home he'd been moved into before he moved to the hospital where he died. the moment i walked in i knew something was wrong, different in the way it had never been in the 20 years i'd called him my grandfather. the lion inside him, the light which sometimes dwarfed those of others' around him, was gone -- notably, as it had to be with him.
the physical therapist who helped him sit up in his bed -- sitting up was important, she said; lying down for three days like he'd done wasn't very healthy at all -- she was cute, i noticed, and so when my grandfather, the man who flirted with every waitress i'd ever seen serve him, did not flirt with her, i knew / felt that was off.
as my mom and the physical therapist pulled and pushed him to sit up for a few minutes, i waited outside and sat on a couch in the unused community room where the lights were turned off and played tiny wings on my iphone and felt guilty about tiny wings on my iphone and thought 'what if this is the last time i see my grandfather, will i feel bad about spending half of it outside avoiding his age and playing tiny wings on my iphone.' but i didn't feel guilty then and i don't feel guilty now.
it was around 2pm when i was there and 'who wants to be a millionaire' was on the tv set. it was playing throughout the entire nursing home. as you walked from his room through the common room to the 'assisted living' section down the hall where my grandmother lives, you could see an entire round of the game played out on the floor's tv sets. i wonder how many people who watch any given episode of 'who wants to be a millionaire' are alive for the next episode. for the episode one month later. one year later? certainly 0%, one century later.
before i left the room out of nervousness to play iphone games, a young black boy brought my grandfather lunch -- blintzes, a traditional jewish food. my grandfather requested that i find the kitchen and request they be heated up. it feels unnecessary now that i did that for him, but i like that even a week before he died he was being an asshole to the wait staff so he could have what he wanted. is that ok to say 'i like that he was being an asshole?' i feel like if there is any context in which it's ok to say that sentence, this is that context.
my mom went out to discuss with the nurses how they might better care for him, and i was left alone in the room with him. i wanted to try as best i could to get him out of his daze. i wanted him to talk about something other than 'can you lower the bed a little bit' or 'the tv is too quiet.' i asked him 'were blintzes popular when you were a kid?' because i know that people like to talk about themselves and their childhoods. he told me about his family, who owned a shoe-making business in philadelphia. when i left to go home and play a game of basketball with acquantainces from high school, i shook his hand and he said 'so long, aaron.' i said 'so, long grampop. you'll have to tell me more about the leather shoe business next time. so long'
then my mom lowered his bed and turned off the light and he went to sleep.
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