My grandfather, the storyteller, the fisherman.

When I visited my grandfather last month, they gave me this sheet of paper that had a prophecy on it, about him, from 1987.

Judging from the website they started in his last hours, it makes me think that he didn’t feel he fulfilled the prophecy.

I, feel, otherwise.

You were a mighty man, a mighty warrior. And the kings you stood before were the people you touched. We’re all kings and queens of our lives and you’ve counceled & helped so many in your life. Your prophecy was fulfilled.

That’s the only thing I regret not telling you.

[At home, in the church.]

My grandfather died today. The first person, who meant something to me in my adult frame of mind, died today.

When Julie and I went to see him a few weeks ago, I had two things that I wanted to happen in case something like this happened before I could see him again. Luckily, I was able to do both with him.

First, Julie and I wanted him as our minister for the wedding ceremony. Since there was doubt that he may not make it to our wedding (much less, marry us) we wanted him to say a blessing over us. The day we left him and Arkansas we had him do that. It meant more to both of us than he probably knew at the time, in light of his condition.

Secondly, I had a story come to me that explained my grandfather so accurately. As I scripted it in my head, I kept thinking how it sounded like something spoken as an eulogy. I’ve always pictured myself in the coffin, at my open funeral, wondering how people would act and what they would say if I were dead. I think we all deserve to hear how much we’re loved and how we’re viewed before we die, so I found a time to share it with him before we left Arkansas. This is what I told my grandfather.

“You’ve always had a quiet sense of leadership about you. Your brushed back hair, like a lion’s mane- your rule of a soft paw. No one ever knew they were in your kingdom when they were around you- your knowledge and power, unassuming. Their safety & comfort came from those unknowns. The first to laugh, the last to cry- your strength came from your strong will & happiness. You never once had to roar or extract your claws… except on occasion to silence your lioness (he laughed at this). The cubs you raised, you saw through to men. Your legend, while always perfecting, will not die with you. We slumber in the shadow of you and raise our own under the same sun you did.

I love you.“

I kissed him on the forehead and left the room.

My grandfather has been back and forth to the hospital for the past month now. He’s not doing too well. Doctors are predicting the worse. This situation reminded me of something I wrote about my grandfather 2 years ago when he had a heart attack. This is it…

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”Vincent Phiscalla writes a story about his grandmother dying and you give him an A plus. And meanwhile, the night of the funeral, you wanna know where Rhodes Scholar Vince is? Getting smashed at a basketball party and slapping girls asses. I mean, what is that? A charity A+? You wanna know why everybody always writes about their grandmothers dying? It’s not because it’s so traumatic. It’s because it’s a guaranteed A+! And you sit there all sentimental “Oh, Vince it was very powerful, very moving.” No, it wasn’t. You didn’t care. Nobody cared. That’s what grandmothers do. They die!” - Quote from 25th Hour

I had a dream last night that my grandfather passed away. Since he’s in the hospital right now after another heart attack, it’s easy to see what spawned the dream. Hours after waking up, I still remember such details from it-a very vivid and lifelike dream. Since I rarely remember such dreams, I’m taking this as a sign that I should share what happened and the thoughts surrounding this.

In the dream, I had a very distinct, calm about me as I walked through the streets- streets that were more from his childhood than mine. I could hear the frantic and concerned voices between family members in the distance, no one asking where I was- but everyone knowing that I wasn’t a part of that worried circle. I began this walk leaving a girl who represented my love. Before I left her, I looked at her with such detachment and distance. I didn’t look over my shoulder, because I knew she wouldn’t follow me after such a stare.

My grandfather, a pastor most his life, is your traditional southern Christian. I haven’t been to a church in years, but in my dream, the first place I went was this small church- the kind he would have preached at. The kind where pastors work day jobs because its congregation is so small or too poor- that even in their unwavering resolve to pay tithes and offerings, it was barely enough to keep the lights on. Pastors who did it because they were possessed and consumed by the message.

Church was just letting out when I got there. Everyone in their Sunday best- me in my jeans and t-shirt. No one asked questions, because I wore my reason in my eyes. Closing them, momentarily to say a little prayer- so silent that I, myself, didn’t hear it. They weren’t conscious words, I doubt words even left my lips. I believe it was more symbolism than anything else. Me going where I knew my grandfather would go if he could leave the hospital bed.

I left the church and continued to walk. The voices of family members muddled the air again. Why the worry? Why the concern?, I kept asking myself. Then- I started questioning my own actions. “Why aren’t you concerned? Why aren’t you crying? Why aren’t you consoling those who aren’t as strong?” The answer is a destination with many avenues leading to it.

As the quote that started this post stated, that’s what grandparents do, they die. Once someone hits 50, you usually have 20 - 30 years to come to terms with that. Failure to do so implies issues of denial. I’ve addressed such things in my mind and heart- in turn, I’ll prepare to deal for my parent’s death as soon as everyone in the grand-generation passes on. But this is just the logical side of things. Logic doesn’t comfort the heart and I am anything but heartless. 

When you see someone suffering, you want to ease their pain. My grandfather has dedicated his life to the church and God, therefor neither of his two options are bad according to his beliefs. When it comes to those I love, I suffer when they suffer and take on a selfish mentality on their behalf- as I look out of their eyes and tint my view with their beliefs.

Ever notice it’s the one on the deathbed who’s calmest? They’re dying and they’re consoling the living- telling them everything is okay. “It’ll be alright,” until their last breath.  There’s a reason for that and I feel I understand it.

He passed away in the dream- but he’s still alive in real life. He could die tomorrow or live for another 10, 20 years. He knows this, I know this. And we both know whatever tomorrow holds, that it’s okay and that it will be alright.

“I wish I had been in a position to encourage & put you through college. It’s like having a corvette, but never taking it over 30.”

Unsaid: “The fact is, I’m still a corvette and have enjoyed the ride with many miles ahead of me.“

They made me smile.

I came across this today and was pleased by its contradiction of what’s “sexy” in American culture.

And for those who don’t know, this is referencing a movie called “American Beauty” where the sex appeal of the movie was a skinny Mena Suvari.

I don’t just “kill bugs.”

1. Profiling - Judging by the size of the house and the Mercedes in the driveway, it was obvious they were rich.

2. Laziness - I knew I’d have to mix more chemical to treat the house with what I had on me, but I didn’t want to, so I looked for an opportunity.

3. Social Engineering - I felt them out. Very personable and trusting people- I had the lead. I also took advantage of their little son’s interest in the work I was doing. “Do you want to help me drill this?, Oh, you like dinosaurs- which is your favorite?, etc…“

4. Hype - Their house had spiders and bugs, but nothing to worry about. They are a once a year customer, $25 service. Oh, but that crawl space and all the mulch they had in the landscaping were begging for bugs…

5. Delivery - “We have a treatment that is contracted only for ants, but takes care of almost every pest imaginable. It keeps you bug free for 6 months and it helps our company from making monthly trips out to your place. Normally, you’d pay $30 a month for us to come out and treat your house, but with this program, you’re paying around $20. Instead of paying $25 today for a month’s coverage, you can pay $125 for six months.“

Sold + commission

“Her eyes tell stories that lead & ink could never script.“

I just transferred a lot of phone photos to my computer and thought I’d share.