He's Visits My Dreams

I can't say I ever really knew him growing up.  As a kid he was the "exotic" grandfather who came from the big city up north.  He was tall and dark complected.  He smelled of cigarettes - Pall Mall with no filter.  I remember the scent because it was foreign to me.  Neither of my parents smoked.  He spoke in a deep, weathered voice with funny pronunciation.  He'd say something and then give a chuckle of sorts.  A breathy sighing snicker I've only ever heard my uncle (his son) duplicate.

My memory of Grandpa is a chopped up group of visits here and there over the years.  I remember he and his family visited mine when I was in Elementary school.  They brought lots of hand-me-down clothes and toys with them.  I remember riding in a car to his house in Chicago as a child.  I was 'sewing' a blue plastic horse in the back of my family's Pinto with Islands in the Stream playing on the radio.  Another time I rode with my mom and brother in our van.  My mom got a speeding ticket and told the officer to 'go to hell'.  I was pretty sure she was going to get arrested.

My most vivid memory is of the trip I took up alone when I was 15.  I stayed with he and my Grandma for 3 weeks.  He worked the majority of the time but my grandmother took me all over the city to museums and zoos, the planetarium, the aquarium, and the Sears tower.  I got back home riding with my grandfather in a car.  The entire ride I sat in the back seat reading a book.  I refused to engage him with eye contact, much less conversation. 

Looking back I think there was a certain fear I had of men.  I had just endured several years of an abusive father and that was really all I knew about them.  My 15-year-old form of self-preservation was rebellious disassociation and aloofness.  So that's what I did. 

Not much later my grandparents retired to a small town just a few hours away from me.  I saw him a bit more frequently then but never really took the opportunity to get to know him.  A decision I vehemently regret today.

It was only after Grandpa passed in 1997 that I learned what an extraordinary man he was.  A self-made business man with only a 9th grade education.  He worked his way up through his company inch by inch until he was near the top.  He often took international business trips to places like China.  Not to mention he did so while taking care of his wife and two youngest children.

Sadly, it was too late to learn about Grandpa first hand.  Instead I learned from asking my mother about her father.  I could always tell that my mom held her dad in the highest regard.  Even in her late 30's and early 40's she would look at Grandpa with the star-struck love of a 5-year-old.  He was her Superman.  She always cooked what he loved (her biscuits and Key Lime Pie) for him when she wouldn't cook for anyone else.  Even the smallest compliment from him made her beam with pride.

I could never understand the devotion and admiration myself because my own father had stopped acknowledging my mere existence just 3 or 4 years prior.  We'd never had a loving or nurturing relationship - my father and I.  Those father/daughter relationship are always a bit strange to me.  My mom had that with her father though. 

But Grandpa's been gone 12 years now.  I like to think that just recently we met back up in an unconventional kind of way. 

Shortly after I purchased my first home I had a vivid dream where my Grandpa followed me as I walked through my house.  I guess I was giving him a tour of sorts, though I was aware in the dream he had passed long ago.  I walked him outside to show him my back yard.  As we approached the fence gate, he walked through and turned back to me.  He smiled and nodded his head in approval.  No words were exchanged.  None needed to be.

Waking up that morning I couldn't help but feel like it was more than a dream.  My Grandpa had visited me!  He was proud and wanted to see my new house.  It made my day to know I had his approval.

Only once has Grandpa visited me since then.  In the second dream we chatted a little bit, just sitting and spending a short time together.  I look forward to his next visit, and I miss him when he's gone.