My Grandpas Goodbye

The fire cracked and glowed as the wind howled outside the living room window. I was entangled in my dad’s mighty hands. His rough weathered skin giving way to years of hard work and labor, and indeed they were as strong as they looked. I loved running my fingers through his as they danced around each other in a soft-spoken harmony. His arms encased me and held me close as the warmth of the fire reached my face and sent a comforting tingle down my spine. I was daddy’s little girl, which nothing in the world could change. He looked down at me and smiled his charming smile as he squeezed me a little tighter; I wriggled around to find the perfect comfort spot. As I lay gently in his arms my tired blue eyes began to close, the crackling fire playing a soft lullaby in my ear. I forced my eyes open one last time and whispered softly to my dad, “Tell me a story.”
I took comfort in his gruff but soft-spoken voice, his words echoing through my mind. This was it. I had found my little piece of heaven as my mind soared high and drifted through the clouds, clinging onto his every word. It was moments like this that completed a child’s life.
He spoke of a time far beyond my memory. Sure I was present but my fragile un-matured mind could not remember such a thing. He talked of my grandfather and the angels that followed. The only memories I had of him were faint and blurry in my mind. Only a few stood out among the others. I remember a time when I was placed among his lap, my head buried in his chest. Surrounding us was a full house of family and relatives. He held me close and gave me that same tingle as when my father held me. My mind drifted in and out of consciousness and my mom figured it was time to settle me into bed. My grandpa peered down at me and stared at me with his big blue eyes. He spoke softly as he asked me what I would dream of that night. Being the child I was couldn’t just give him one answer so I spent another half hour upon his lap talking of what would fill me mind that night. I loved my grandpa very much but as I said most memories were a blur. I only knew him for a brief amount of time as he took his life in his own hands and ended it. Words could not explain how much I miss him. Before his passing my grandpa was a truck driver who owned a big white semi truck in which he would take his grandchildren in from time to time.
My dad went on to speak about his sudden death and the grief it brought our family. He went on to talk about ‘said’ truck and how my grandma was left not knowing what to do with it. Knowing the best thing she could do was sell it so she put it among the auto trader and waited for that one call that would change her life. It’s amazing how in a time of grief such a thing could bring light to such a dark time. Finally the day came that she got a call about it and she made arrangement for the man on the phone to view the truck.
The man drove down the driveway in his white pickup truck and stopped before the house. He got out and introduced himself as J.J Amen. Such a big truck could not be kept on such a small property so it was at a friend’s house for the time being. Both my grandma and J.J hopped into my grandma truck and off they went. They arrived at the friend’s house soon after and upon a quick viewing of the truck J.J agreed to buy it. With a smile on my grandmas face and a weight lifted off her shoulders they headed of to the bank to complete the paper work and figure out expenses. When all was said and done and the expense had been paid when J.J turned to my grandma and asked how much she would get. My grandma explained all the money was going to the expenses of the truck, which left none for her. Well J.J would have that so he offered her 500 $ and surely she took it. They headed back to the place where the semi-truck was parked and my grandma handed over the keys. J.J turned to my grandma and asked if it was all right if he left his truck there and took the semi home to show his family. Not having a problem with it my grandma agreed and it was so that he left his truck there. So off J.J went with his new truck and a smile on his face and so my grandma returned home. Later that day the friend who was holding onto the truck for my grandma walked out into the yard and headed toward J.J’s truck. With curiosity he opened the unlocked door and peered in. Not a spot in the truck was empty as bible verse plastered the entire vehicle. Sitting on the seat was the auto trader and to his surprise the only vehicle circled was my grandpas semi. Over taken by what he just found he headed back to his house to call my grandma. Later on in the day the friend headed back out to the yard to see if J.J had come. Surely his truck was gone and so was J.J. My grandma being kind of taken back by the whole thing started to research J.J Amen.
The ending to the story was always my favorite. My dad went on to say that my grandma could not find a thing on him. It turned out he didn’t exist and him and his trucks were never heard of or seen again. My grandma collapsed to the floor knowing God had sent her an angel and surely she was very grateful.
With the last of my dads words and a smile on my face I drifted off to sleep. As I grew older my dad would continue to tuck my sister and me in bed and read us a story. Didn’t matter what is was, it could be made up, from a book, or a story from his past we loved them all., especially the quality time we could spend with our dad. I loved the way he could bend his voice every which way and bring a story to life. Like a good book, we couldn’t help but listen and want to hear more and more. As his stories would come to a close and he would get up to leave a mutual “aww” was voiced by my sister and me. Like my grandpa my dad would draw you in with his voice. Never was there a plain facial expression on his face as he warped it and used his hand as he went on with the story. I remember being so fascinated with it my love for his stories grew more and more. Always it will be that my dad was my favorite storyteller and still in my teenage years manages to fascinate us with his way of words and his ability to draw you in. As it is so, my dad was my favorite storyteller.






knifeb4life knifeb4life
18-21, F
Sep 25, 2012