Grandpa's Journal

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Authors: N. W. Fidler
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    8/11/2016
     
                  There was thunder all today but no rain or lightning. Dad had me tag along to help him move some jars of hot sauce his Grandma and Grandpa made when they were younger. Said they were the best burning feeling all down your throat I’d ever get. I’m sure he didn’t get the innuendo.
                  Grandpa was his normal self. He just sat there out on the porch, letting Dad walk up to him without a care. Dad made it clear that if he ever raised his voice to Mom again the nursing home was the least of Grandpa’s worries. “Just take what you came to get and go.” Grandpa answered him, not even looking at Dad. He was just staring up at the tree across the street.
                  Dad said some other stuff I didn’t catch and shoved his way into the house.
                  I wasn’t sure if Dad wanted me to follow so I just stood there on the bottom step half stepping up and half attempted to go back to the car.
                  “Ungrateful brat.” Grandpa spat. And for the first time he looked at me. Really looked at me. Just studying me head to toe like we’ve never met before. It had to be a good ten seconds before he said. “You want something?”
                  “No.” was all I could say. I turned to go back to the car but Grandpa just laughed at me. “What’s so funny?”
                  “You.”
                  What kind of response was that? He’s crazy. He went off on this long drawn out thing about probability and making too many mistakes to fix his mistakes and just on and on about whatever he was spouting. All the while twisting his green rock necklace around in his hand, I wish it would have broke.
                  Dad came back, making me help him carry as many jars as we could to the car. 
                  Grandpa never finished what he was saying. He just stopped as soon as Dad came back. Before we left though Grandpa finally gave Dad a time of day. “I’m sorry about your Mother.”
    He was so sincere that when Dad answered him with “You never loved her Dad. I don’t want to hear it.” I had to be in shock, the same with Grandpa.
    On the way home Dad blasted whatever radio station was clearest, which was the same five pop songs over and over, fuming. It wasn’t till we were almost home he explained Grandma adopted him without Grandpa's knowledge. Grandpa had been away for months and when he got back all covered in mud, two black eyes, and covered in bruises that all he had to say to Grandma was “It’s done.”
    Dad said Grandpa must have had it in with the mob or some criminal organization cause after that day not even a single drug dealer set foot on their street for decades. Grandma had thought Grandpa was dead and yet one explanation later Dad was shoved in a broom closet for a few days.
    He was three then and once Grandma opened the door to the closet everything had been fine for a while. But Dad never forgot that and as years passed and Grandma dying in some accident, all the love Grandpa had was gone.
    Dad said it was the same day I was born. 
                  I don’t know what to say to that.
                  Why would he tell me that?
                  Mom wasn’t happy when Dad got home. Grandpa wasn’t in a home yet. And she hated HATED hot sauce. I thought it tasted great. I took a few when Dad wasn’t looking. Grandpa had good taste.             
     
     
     
     
     
     
    8/12/16
                 
    I don’t know why I’m writing all this. Grandpa asked me today if I was a writer. I’m not. Up until recently anyway. I told him it felt like there was too much on my mind and just had to get it all out, it was all jumbled in my head. “But on the page it feels more real?” he asked.
                  I had no answer to that. He

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