we got a call right after havdala. my sister and brother and i were in the kitchen singing to my baby nephew Benny - brady bunch, weird shit like that. laughing it up, my mom's shouting for us to quiet down. it was my uncle barry - my grandfather was in heart failure, and they'd contacted all the necessary people - it was end stage. we packed up, asked the neighbors to watch the kids, and set off for scranton. images of my father going through shiva, much like my mother had just a few years before, kept flashing through my head. this week, there will be a funeral. this week my father will sit shiva. this week grandma will be released. this week which ive been dreading/anticipating since he first got sick.
when we got to their apartment last night, the nurse was there. my uncle tzvi was there. dr. kurtzer was there. grandpa was on a morphine drip, and he was stable. well, as stable as you can call a man who's been lying in bed for years, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to feed or clean himself.
my brother was asking me what my last memory is of grandpa before he got sick. and i dont have one. not one. i mean, it's only been like 8 years since eveerything began, but all i can call up is after the strokes started, after the nurses were there. seeing him in bed, emaciated. the nurses moving him, turning my head so i won't see him naked - sparing him that indigninty, whether he knows it or not.
after we left the apt, i was numb, in this disconnect. everything was occuring, but had no bearing on me. no connection to me. i was moving through life, and unaffected by it - couldn't be touched. my head was buzzing, i was tingling. i don't remember how to feel anymore. and now when i try, all i feel is sad, hurt, alone, scared.
i met this kid who has me thinking, has me wanting to make somehitng of myself. makes me want to see him make something of himself. we've been haanging out at work, and he's just a good kid. amazing how you can relate to people til you place them back in their natural environment. i wonder if he'll ever have a chance in life. he's in a program where he lives at the salvation army, he's sentenced to live there and work there for 6 to 9 months. he was 15 minutes late for curfew one night, and they kicked him out for 2 weeeks, nowhere to go. someone took him in, and he got a job for a week. he's going back in the morning. they pay him 5 bucks a week. each week he's there, it goes up a buck, maxing out at 20. he was there for 4 months. he's back at $5, now. and for the first 3 weeks that he's there (21 days) he's not allowed to leave the sally. it makees me sick.
he was asked to leave work early today. i'd been bugging him all day, whenever i saw him, about taking a break with me. finally at 3:15 he came to get me, and we went out for 10 minutes. when we got back, our boss let him go. said "he didn't have the privelige of going on breaks".
how are kids ever supposed to change if people never give them the chance? there's so much he wants to do with his life, with himself. is it so bad if i believe in him?
TV is making me cry again. always happens when i cant in real life.
and then i look at someone like this guy i work(ed) with, and i wonder why my parents can't deal with me, can't handle having conversations with me. all you have to do is start talking without any bias or pre-conceptions. i'm out, i have to not feel for a little while longer.
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