Gone the next.

I suppose that’s the reality for all of us living beings.

We’re here. Then we’re not. Simple as that. Except it never seems that simple.

At 1:30p.m., just a mere hour after I had posted on here yesterday, I noticed a missed call from TC. Who never calls during day time hours, so I knew.

And you know when you know. There is some certainty of truth that hits you, a Universal Truth, that your entire body can sense.

I didn’t even finish listening to his message. I didn’t need to. The first few seconds about my grandfather were enough.

And I was off, in a blur.

As quickly as I could, gathering my things, throwing my netbook into my handbag. Grabbing my coat. With my heart racing and everything going eerily silent around me.

I had one mile, two traffic lights and one stop sign to make it through. That one mile that stretched on for what seemed like many miles. The lights that appeared to suddenly remain on red for eternity.

Fuck! Don’t they know! How can that car be stopping to make a turn? Don’t they know!

Don’t they know I need to make it in time.? What the hell is wrong with them?

How many times have I driven this route? Too many to ever begin to even count, yet suddenly it’s different and will never be the same. Because of what it represents.
Time.
Time.
Time.
Endless time.

That’s what it feels like. That the clock never stops when you want it to and when you do, it merely speeds up.

I can tell you that I will always remember my grandfather’s death with Adele.

That as I sang along, because I needed something to keep me clear and focused during that mile, I knew maybe it was already too late. This could be the literal second when he left. Right as I’m singing how my heart has fallen and you failed to claim it. It was over and now it’s gone. You saved my life and made it.

Was he speaking to me?

Fuck. I’ve got to get there.

And then there I was. Gliding through those doors, marching myself into his room.

He took his last breath and I watched how his spirit was no longer there. Just a body.

It struck me then, how a body is just that — a body that we use. A vehicle.

That who we truly are in essence is so much larger and freer and it felt good, knowing he was no longer bound to a body that was betraying him.

Everything was clear and calm.

I will remember hearing Ethel walk by outside his room, aimlessly talking to one of the nurses. Not even aware of what was happening. How could she know?

I will remember the can of Root Beer in the corner by the window.

I will remember hearing someone’s cell phone ringing in another room.

I will remember the sound of TC’s sigh and the way he reached out to comfort me. Which totally freaked me out.

The car alarm that started going off.

All these little mundane, everyday things marking the end of his life. That I’m sure no one thought twice about. That it was their cell phone I will equivalate with his death.

But maybe I’m just strange like that.

I sat there for a while, staring at him. Thinking how downright bizarre it was to be looking at a dead body. With nothing there. That spirit gone.

The horrible coloring that sets in. More like no color. The expression that was still on his face.

I touched his arm. It was still warm.

Still warm.

For some reason, the thought of that humored me.

I told TC I was going to leave and he advised I stay, be supportive.

Supportive to who?

To what someone else is going through that no one else can go through but them?

I will show my support and my love, but this road is one that each of us must go alone.

And besides, what use is it really to sit there and stare at a dead body?

I’d much prefer to remember my Gpa as he was. Not the lifeless thing laying there that looked more like something from CSI.

So I left. I got in the car and I was sure it was going to happen.

The tears.

But no tears came. I couldn’t cry. I still can’t.

I feel thrilled and relieved. Sad, yes, of course.

For all those beautiful times and the laughter and stories and Jimmy Buffett – where would I be without ever having JB introduced into my life?

But I know he wouldn’t want to see tears of sadness.

And of all the days, of all the times he chose to leave, it was Brother’s Birthday that he picked.

I couldn’t think of a more perfect ending to his story if I tried.