Chasing Dandelions

Chapter 3

It had been nearly eight years since the Sutherland family moved to Virginia, their days so far filled with school and work. Summers had held beach days, sleeping over at their grandparents' house every Saturday night and surfing in the early morning hours before the beaches were filled with tourists. Winters were for studying, long naps, and snowboarding. But no matter the season, the boys loved going for breakfast every Sunday morning with their grandpa before heading home to get another week started. Grandpa Jack and Charlie had taught Ben and Matt, who were twelve-year-olds themselves by that point, how to surf as well. Trey Sutherland had fulfilled his second term in the military and had decided to go back to civilian life, having found a job as an analyst.

The thing about Grandpa Jack is he always had a twinkle in his eye and a trick up his sleeve, which is why no one could quite believe how quietly he left the world he'd brought such life to. He died on a Tuesday in autumn just as the leaves were starting to turn shades of red and orange, all intertwined together, quietly moving in the early fall breeze. Charlie was riding his bike down the sidewalk, excited to tell his grandfather about the grade he'd received on his essay about the impact of transcendentalism in the mid-1800's when he suddenly came to a hard stop and stared at the scene in front of him. An ambulance was parked on his grandfather's curb, sitting silently with no lights whirring or sirens blaring. He looked to his right in time to see two paramedics, carefully exiting the house with somber expressions on their faces. Charlie could faintly hear the sound of weeping coming from inside the house, but his eyes were trained on what was happening in front of him. It was as quiet a scene as if you'd just stepped into a library during exam week, when hardly anyone looks up at you because everyone's so focused on what they're doing.

Charlie walked his bicycle up the driveway, approaching the two paramedics who were jotting down notes on a notepad and making slight remarks to each other.

"Excuse me," Charlie began, catching the attention of the paramedic closest to him. "Is everything okay?"

"Are you a family member?"

"Yeah, this is my grandparents' house."

The paramedics exchanged looks, the one closest to Charlie an older, more seasoned first responder. "Your grandfather's had a heart attack. I'm sorry."

"Is he okay?"

The paramedic hesitated a moment before slowly shaking his head. "I'm afraid not, son. He's passed." And just like that, Charlie knew his grandfather was gone. Speechless, he looked down at the handles of his bike, one tear rolling down his face slowly.

Time slowed enough to say goodbye, the first weeks following his grandfather's sudden death some of the longest of Charlie's life. Everything seemed to move a little slower, even the days following the funeral. Getting used to Jack Coleman's absence was like stopping bleeding from an open wound where every time Charlie felt he was getting through the grief, something happened to open the floodgates wide open all over again.

The thing about grief is it is a winding road you walk down, filled with memories of the thing you loved and lost and can't forget. Sometimes it was a barista handing him a cup of coffee at the diner he and Grandpa Jack had frequented. At other times it was passing the old antique store and seeing all the old baseball cards he would have loved to look through. Most of the time, though, it was something really small and seemingly insignificant, like walking through his grandparents' front door and having to remind himself that his grandpa wasn't there or something happening at school and realizing that there was no one to appreciate the story, quite like Grandpa Jack would have. Grief, Charlie found, was the most brutal and simultaneously vulnerable feeling he'd ever experienced.

But compared to the things that were beginning to take root in his family, grief in and of itself was a welcome emotion to Charlie. The Sutherland household had been silent for nearly two weeks, following Grandpa Jack's passing, but the silence had been slowly building a long time, the tension thick and menacing. The week of the loss had been met with an all-business mentality, moving from one task to the next in an almost robotic fashion. But in the days that followed, it was as if no one quite knew what to do with the knowledge that he was gone and the silence, to Charlie, seemed endless but was a welcome change of pace as his parents had been exchanging short remarks less than usual. The loss was hardest on his mother and she'd been shut away in the master bedroom nearly the full three weeks, Charlie and his brothers taking turns to make sure she ate her meals. It was as if all of a sudden all the life had drained from her, the loss of her father the last thing she could handle. Thinking of something that might cheer her up, Charlie placed an order at her favorite restaurant, picked it up, and ran upstairs to deliver it to her.