I wasn’t really asleep, not entirely, not yet.
I’d been watching Forensic Files – Gerry asked if he could turn out his light (I was playing Scrabble, multi-tasking) and I said, “Yes, of course.”
He’s usually the one who outlasts me, I’m generally the one tossing and turning until he decides he’s finished with his book/email/TV show.
Twice today I almost said to the kids, “Your grandpa’s old Army uniform is up in the office closet…” But I didn’t.
I wondered, “What would I be saying that for, what would it be leading to?”
- A discussion of World War II?
- An appraisal of how tall my dad was during the war (average) and how large (average)?
- A frank discussion of the demons that tore up his soul?
- An apology for those moments when the same demons visit me?
- An explanation of why, 30 years after his death on January 6th, 1978, I still feel such a small amount of sorrow for such a large loss?
Perhaps tomorrow, sometime between school and piano lessons/piano lessons & homework/homework & bed, I’ll show them the uniform.