Back in the 40's, my grandfather was quite the musician. He played the spoons at all the Brooklyn hotspots until he left for the war. He tried teaching me once. I wasn't good, but I caught on quickly - maybe my hands were meant for something simpler.
I never had an especially close relationship with my grandfather. Besides telling me I couldn't play drums, he also told me I could never make a living off writing. I guess I proved him wrong. Although, he's too proud to admit anything like that.
Chaya was incredibly strong-headed and singleminded. He had to get his way, HAD to, which is why his nickname means animal. The thing is, his stubbornness and resistance to change did him good.
He made me laugh. He wore his socks high and shorts short. He wore suspenders in bright blue, red and always had a Veterans cap on, as well as slippers. He tried growing a ponytail once, a silvery gray one that looked greasy and wrong. He ate hot dogs and hamburgers, claiming that he was a vegetarian and practicing Jew. He ate bagels and bread, claiming that he was on the Atkins diet. Yes, he made me laugh.
A year ago today, Chaya passed away. He was old, in his late 80s, and his Alzheimer's and dementia kicked in. It was painless - my grandmother was there. She was sad, yes, but content that he wasn't in such a sad state anymore. It was the first time I lost a close family member. I didn't know how to cope, and yet I did.
Back in July, while in NY for my cousin's wedding, my family visited Chaya's grave. Deep at the back of a quaint graveyard, there it was, his headstone - big and proud just like he was. We wiped some dirt off it because we knew he'd be complaining about it if he was there. Those cockamamies, he'd yell.
The graveyard was lovely and he had a great view - but we knew he wasn't there. Yes, his body was, but he was having a row with his other ghost friends at a local bar. My grandfather wasn't an alcoholic, far from it, but he loved his Jack Daniels.
Before leaving my brother put his business card on the grave. See, I made something of myself, he said. I did it for you. I cried.
A week ago I was at a Mexican restaurant with my parents. A mariachi band danced by and we listed to the music pour out of their instruments. Loud, sure, but moments like that Chaya loved. We knew he'd be clapping along, no, playing the spoons along with him and smiling. I thought of him and his yelling. It was how I remembered him best. I still remember his voice, gruff, yet high when he was contemplating. He was kind and caring even if he didn't let on. I always knew he worried about me. For a moment I was teary eyed, realizing I'll never hear that voice again, but then it was okay. Because I can't play the drums, and I do write for a living...but I know, even the way I am, I still make him proud. Wherever he is.
We miss you, Chaya.
8 comments:
Lauren, what a lovely tribute to your garndfather. Sometimes the ones who love us will use those 'negative' kind of tactics to get us moving, to get us to prove them wrong. Not my style, but I experienced it a lot from my father. As for your hands being meant for something simpler, well I reckon your writing is anything but! Be with the sadness, and you'll come out the other side stonger and wiser (at least that's what I keep telling myself!) Thank you for your openness and sharing. Paul
What a wonderful tribute to your grandfather. You have memories of him but also a strong sense and respect for who he was. Thanks for sharing this. He sounds like someone we would all have enjoyed knowing!
That was beautiful. It is best to remember our loved ones in their best form, loving life and having a good time. My grandmother passed away a year and a half ago from complications of Alzheimers, and it was torturous to watch. I simply cannot remember her the way she was in the end.
I miss my grandfather all the time, and I'm always wondering how proud of me he would be if he could see me as I am now.
All my life I always wanted to impress him. He was and still is my favorite.
This was lovely, Lauren. It really hit home for me.
Beautiful, Lauren.
I lost both of my grandfathers and one of my grandmothers in the last ten years. Different things remind me of each of them and it's always good to know that the wonderful memories remain with us no matter what.
Lauren, this is such a beautiful tribute to your grandfather. I miss my grandparents all the time.
What an amazing way to tribute your grandfather... it was so sweet and touching. It made me miss my grandparents! Sending you lots of love oxoxoxoox
So beautifully written. I really got goosebumps. It's nice that even though you didn't have a perfect relationship that you can remember him so fondly.
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