Warning to my mom - don't read this at work

I was watching the Nutcracker at the Fox in ATL one year ago today. I was having a fabulous time with my daughter, my sisters, and my mom. We had seats front and center. The Russian stacking dolls were amazing, and the little girls playing the dolls were adorable. The rats did a funkadelic dance and had a bigger part than in previous years. I love how they change the choreography each year while remaining true to the story. Did you know that the Nutcracker has been performed every Christmas season for over 100 years?

It was a night memories are made and it was magical. At intermission, my mom got a phone call from my aunt. My grandfather, who had been doing poorly for several months, had passed away. The rest of the performance was difficult to sit through. He was in Florida and there was nothing we could do but sit and finish. I don't remember much. I was busy holding my sister's hand and trying not to cry at one of the best venues in Atlanta watching a classic ballet.

My grandfather, Harold, a.k.a. the Silverback, Hank, GrandDad, or Geraldo, lived an incredible life. I won't try to cover the whole of it here, but suffice it to say, he definitely made his mark on the world. He was involved in the beginning of the Arby's corporation, he founded a festival in one town he lived in, he raised 5 kids, was a mentor to 10 grandchildren, and 12 great-grandchildren. GrandDad had 2 loves: my grandmother and my GrandNorma. He had an exquisite sense of humor. With superb timing, a photographic memory, and a wit that I dare say was unmatched, he could turn a phrase in an instant and leave us rolling on the floor.

GrandDad, we love you and miss you terribly. And I would give anything to be able to get you the daily paper, and to make you a cup of some of that world-famous ice tea.

This conversation actually happened.

Let me set the scene for you.

A cold February day in WhereIlive. It's overcast, the wind is blowing. I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of the mailman. It's nearly 2:30PM.

*mailman arrives at my stairs and steps on the pieces of cute ceramic mushrooms he had previously stepped on and broken*

me (not so nicely): Hey!

Mailman: Uh, hi?

me: Did you bring back those letters you took out of the mailbox two days ago?

Mailman: huh?

me (slowly): I said...Did...you...bring...back...the...letters?

Mailman: What letters?

me: I left three letters in the mailbox so I could get them the next day.

Mailman: Why would you do that?

me (rapidly so I could get the whole thing out): Because I have 4 kids. Only 3 Valentines' Day cards came so I was waiting for the 4th one to come so no one would be sad about not getting theirs. I left the 3 in the box. There was a letter paper-clipped to the front of the box, like you told us was the proper way to get things picked up. The others were inside. You should have left them in there.

Mailman: How's a mailman supposed to know that?

me (incredulously and loudly): Are you KIDDING me? There was an address on the front of the envelopes for THIS HOUSE! They had THIS address on them! They were already stamped from having been sent through the mail! How could you not know that?

Mailman: Oh, sorry.

me: OK, well they're all here now, so good.

*scene fades out*


I know the end was pretty anticlimactic, but what do you say after your shroom crushing mailman apologizes? I suspect he didn't entirely understand what the problem was, or why the crazy lady was yelling at him, but sheee-yooooot! It's HIS JOB to know about letters.

I'm feeling sad today.

My grandfather, who taught me (sometimes through my mother) to do things like mix up words to be silly. Or to make up stories. Or to make virtually everything funny. To be a member of the look-em-up club. All you had to do to be in the club was to always be curious and look things up if you didn't know them. Granddad, who calls himself the silverback (as in gorilla) of our family. Who started learning Spanish in his 70's. Who researched our genealogy back to the early 1600's. My granddad is sick.

My granddad is in the hospital and probably won't leave it. He's suffering from numerous ailments as he starts his 85th year. We're sort of preparing for the end of his life. And I'm feeling kind of raw about it. I don't like funerals. I especially don't like viewings, but the funerals are bad too. But I'll go, because I think my mom and my sisters will need me there.

We need each other in times of grief. We need to be sad with other people who understand how much we love each other. All of the nice things that people say and do are needed too, but only family and close friends know you well enough to not say anything at all. So from more than 800 miles away, I'm trying to be supportive of my family and deal with everything here as well as preparing myself emotionally.

But he's still here for now, and who knows what may be. Just say a little prayer for my family and especially my step-grandmother, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle.