I was thinking today about what a good opportunity COVID-19 lockdown/quarantine is for me to pick up writing again. However, I can’t “pick-up writing again” without a little shoutout to my Pop – who continuously talked about “my writing” and repeatedly asked me to go sit in a bar and write about the people around me. This is my promise to do that for him as soon as quarantine is over. I don’t know what kind of writing will come out of it but I know he’ll be there and, knowing that, that’s where I want to be too.
I also don’t feel like I can “start writing again” without “bookmarking” my writing about losing Pop. So, this entry serve that purpose. This marks a life shift.
As a personal followup to my last family post, many of you know my Pop was one of my best friends. He was the person I called when good things happened, the person I called when bad things happened, and the person I called when I had one too many drinks and wanted to tell someone a secret or the kind of joke that no one should be comfortable telling their own grandfather.
He had the best stories, the soundest advice (unless he was feeling silly and then his advice was just plain ridiculous), the funniest jokes, and the greatest laugh (more like a cackle, really). He designed the most exciting adventures: I once found a letter in a bottle on the beach at Seabrook and then the buried treasure of Captain (Pirate!) John Bonet, after all. He’d tell you to suck your tongue if he gave you a secret treat. And he’d refer to things as being so good they’d “make you wanna slap your grandmother” and then receive a slap from our grandmother while he laughed.
His light in this world was SUCH a bright one, brightening the lives of everyone around him – especially mine. I know grandparents are supposed to beat you to heaven and be at the gates with open arms when your time finally comes – that’s the comfort offered in how it works. That being said, it doesn’t feel quite right to be in a world without Pop as my friend and I will miss him so much until we’re reunited. I’m comforted knowing that his stories float throughout the circles he was in, that his laughter will never be forgotten and that we’ll have endless crabbing adventures together when I get to meet up with him in heaven one day.
Admittedly for the first couple of weeks of quarantine, I was just thinking about emotional/mental survival. Especially the first week or two which were darkened by Pop’s passing. Recently, I realize that perhaps this is a time to become better; more patient, more appreciative, more communicative, more generous… a better listener, daughter, sister, partner, friend, cousin, niece… granddaughter. And in that, maybe a better writer, pray-er, yoga-doer, walker, admirer of the world…