The Voice on the Other Side of the Phone

You always hear of the elderly having tons of regrets. Well sometimes kids have them too.

Most kids get to meet their grandparents. I didn't. I had already lost my grandfather on my dad's side. His name was Ernie. But my Grandmother, Gloria, was dying of kidney failure.

I live in California, she lived in New York. When we found out I was horribly grief stricken. But I didn't want to fly.

It was only a little while after 9/11... And I was terrified to fly to New York to see her one last time... I asked if I could go by train, no, it would take too long, Jews have to be buried within 3 days my dad told me. Well, I ended up not going.

My dad was so dissapointed... He kept guilt tripping me, but now I understand he was grieving. But either way I felt horrible...

A few weeks after he came home, I was crying, and he came up and he told me a story...

He and the doctor were the last people to see her. You see she'd chosen to go off dialysis. It was essentially him sitting there watching her get weaker and weaker and dying.

She looked over at him and told him:

"Bruce...I don't want you in here when I pass. But I do want you to do one thing for me," and she was so weak she could barely whisper, but he heard it all.

And she said, as best she could..."Tell Tad...I love him..."

Those were her last words, she passed a few moments later.

Now, I don't know if this is true, or if he said it to cheer me up...But I like to think it's true.. If only to assuage my own pain...

But she was always just this voice on the other end of the telephone, you know?

She sent me these funny magazines, and always told me how fast I was growing up, and that she shouldn't send me those kiddy newspapers and stuff, but I always told her I was never too old to get them.

But honestly, I'm a very shy kid, I don't know what to say to people! I mean, it was just a voice on the telephone! I only got to meet her twice...

She never seemed like a real person. When she died however she never STOPPED feeling like a real person. Especially when we got a box of her possessions. They contained photos of her and my dad, her and the family. Everything she treasured, a special book dedicated to my memories.

Though when I stop and think about it, I look back on the phone conversations I had with her. Short and to the point. She'd always just been the voice on the other end.

So I made a note to myself that night my dad told me that. I got a safety deposit box and I put it there, and I ordered that it be opened and the note given to me right before I die, and then to be read at my funeral.

It reads as follows:

I may not be remembered for a 1000 years like some famous people have. I may not be remembered for the life span of my kids, but I will always be in their hearts. I hope that by the time this note is read, I will have made peace with myself.

I hope to be remembered as that guy, whatshisname, you know, the fun one. Oh yeah, Tad! He was a great guy. Eh, he was good somedays. I don't want to be falsely remembered as "greater than I really was." So I want to be remembered right.

I was an okay person. I wore glasses, I had blue eyes, and blonde hair. I looked like a tall version of my grandfather. My grandfather who was always happy that my ears never stuck out.

I go off onto the greatest adventure the world could ever throw at us. I hope to see my grandparents in heaven. And watch as my legacy is fulfilled through my kids. And through their kids. And that I may see them all grow up and live happy lives.

Good-bye..... And also.... So it goes...

Because after all, I was only the voice on the other end of the phone.