Wednesday, April 07, 2004

In Passing

I've been trying to put aside the hectic stress of life for a number of days, but time grows short, and the eulogy won't come.

It's not that I don't have something to say. Grandpa was quiet, but there's a lot of him in me, some in Willow, more in my mother. He taught me about Sinatra, and the hidden pleasures of disco. I've carried his army dog tag in my wallet for a day and a half. And somewhere, I know he and my grandmother are dancing again, close and smiling, like they are in the picture we took on our last visit to Florida.

And now there's just no time at all, really. We leave in eight hours for the Long Island cemetary, and though it's a long way, I don't think I'll be able to write anything in the car.

I'll try, I guess. I want to write something, even if I know my motives for doing so are murky, and have much to do with proving to myself and my family that I care enough to make something sound just right, and, too, about making up for our necessary absence from his wife's funeral two years ago, less than 24 hours before our child came into the world.

I'm worried the right words will come to me too late, and bring a forever of regret when they finally come.

I know you can't rush the heart, neither to grief nor to love. But I loved him, and want so much and so deeply to have the words already in my head. He was an everything, one of many, and he deserves the attention that I wish with all my heart to give him, the time that work and seder have stolen from us.

I wish just this once the heart could push the heart itself to pour forth. I wish the world was run by hearts, and not by timetables. I wish I wasn't about to fail him, the only time I really had something that I could give, even if it could never have been enough.

I wish we all could live forever. I wish sickness never came to those we love. I wish I had the words I want at my fingertips.

I wish my heart could speak.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:29 PM |

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