My grandfather is dying and he will never meet my favorite person.
I've lived with my grandparents since I was 5, so Papa has essentially been my father figure. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer over 3 years ago. He has a Master's degree and worked in education for 50 years. Within 3 years he went from being the "man of the house" (mowing the lawn, taking the garbage bins, doing all the house maintanence) to not being able to wipe himself or use his legs. I can't imagine what that loss of dignity does to a person who, mentally, is still the same.
Following his diagnosis, I was prepared for all of this, as much as it hurt. What I was not prepared for was suddenly having unrequited feelings for a girl, despite having identified as straight for the past several years. She's ridiculously talented, artistic, warm, funny, spiritual, just a gem to be around. Our conversations are intellectually simulating and I learn every time we talk. She stares people deep in the eyes and strikes up conversations with strangers. We were in a dead silent museum and she started conversing with the gaurd, asking him how his day was. She is better than me in this way; she connects with people so beautifully, makes them feel real, makes them feel seen.
I want her to meet my grandfather. I picture them sitting on the couch together, looking at paintings, discussing art and literature. He would try to be witty and impress her like he does with every young person. And she would look him in the eyes and smile, because she always looks people in the eyes, and he would maybe feel the spark of connection and understanding that he's lacked since becoming housebound. I cry imagining this.
Last night I dreamt I heard awful sounds coming from his room, my grandmother yelling for help, but when I tried to go in the door was locked. I fell to my knees and sobbed into my hands, thinking it's really over this time. This is really it.
So I asked Mama if she can get him dressed this weekend and bring him into the living room so he can meet my favorite friend. She was overjoyed at the idea and told me yes. I cried. But today I came home from work and tried to talk to him, and he can barely get a word out. "Hello" is laborious for him. After one sentence his eyes roll back and he falls asleep.
So that's it. The most intelligent man I know, the person who taught me how to read, how to write, how to talk, how to think, is in too much pain to do any of those things. And now I think, even if she did meet him, would she understand? Would she see what a wise and educated person he is under all that pain? Or would she just view him as an old, sick, dying person who she's meeting out of pity? I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't have someone come into his bedroom while he's in a bathrobe and give him the pity smile for 30 seconds and leave. I respect him too much.
He can't get dressed, he can't leave the room. He can't have a conversation with the most beautiful girl I've ever met, and be proud of me for knowing her and keeping her around. He will pass away. And he will never know the part of me that is her, and she will never know the part of me that is him. And I will feel so alone with these two parts of my soul having never connected.
I somehow wrote this without crying all over my keyboard, but thank you for reading.