Manimal Crackers

Funeral for a Grandpa (Love Lies Bleeding)

Grandpa died in his sleep last night. We didn't get the memo until today, when my dad pulled me over after I had gotten home from school and told me "We're sorry, Jessica, Grandpa died." I was sad, but not devastated- deep down, I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. My dad, though, was clearly heartbroken about what happened. I could see it in his eyes.

"My condolences for your loss, Professor," Simon told him. "I lost my own father, Peter MacCorkindale, several years ago. He was a lot like your father. He served his country in the RAF, cared deeply for his family, and wonderfully raised a splendid son. I can only fathom what you're going through now."

"Well, my father merely worked behind a desk at Arlington Hall, the headquarters for the code-breaking then, but otherwise, your comparison was spot-on," he told Simon. "Thank you for consoling me, Simon, because this is one of the saddest days of my life."

Simon said nothing, but merely gave him a tearful smile. Or would have, had he been able to grow tears.

"This is just like when I lost my dad," said Mom. I had lost my other grandpa in 2002, almost a decade beforehand, only a few months short of his 80th birthday. My mom still misses him to this day. I was pretty sad to see my dad and Simon mourning like this, so I intruded on their conversation.

"You know, I read somewhere that, given the right motivation, old people tend to hold on as long as they can," I said. "In other words, they don't die if they feel they have a reason to live, even if they are sick or ancient."

"And your grandpa held out just long enough to see you grow into a beautiful young lady," said Dad.

"Concur to that," said Simon, clinking his teacup's with Dad's. "And I wasn't even there to see it!"

"Not yet, anyway," said Dad. "Aren't you her new mentor?"

"I suppose I am," said Simon.

I said nothing, but merely smiled in appreciation at what they said.

All my relatives were at Grandpa's funeral- my aunt and uncle, my great-aunt (Grandma's kid sister), and Grandma herself. She wasn't crying, but I could see the tears welling up in her eyes as we went to his memorial. And of course, they were all there to remember and commemorate what a great man Grandpa was. I had written a eulogy about how he had deeply impacted my life. There was even a rabbi there to introduce me and all.

"Thank you one and all for coming. We're here to commemorate the life of Vincent Rothenberg, World War II veteran and crytanalyst."

"He mostly just sat behind a desk at Arlington Hall," whispered Dad to the guy sitting next to him.

"And now, to say a few words, his granddaughter, Jessica Rothenberg," the coroner continued, as I then walked up to the podium to tell all my relatives my speech I had written for my Grandpa. I was a bit nervous, but also thrilled to tell Grandpa everything I wanted to tell him.

"Dear Grandpa,

Your bed now lies empty in the apartment building near my house. I remember your wonderful sense of humor, I must have inherited it from you. I met some other nice people at the retirement building- however, I never would have met them except for you. I was looking forward to showing you so many amazing things. My newspaper, for example- where I discuss current events, classic musicians I like, & whatnot at school. It was a very hard year for me too- new school year, new school building, Hurricane Irene. September's a hard month for everyone, but this was my hardest September. But the fact that I helped make your final days at least somewhat happy cheers me up so very much.

Love,

Jessica

"That was beautiful!" said my relatives as I walked down from the podium, welcomed by hugs by everyone. Even my aunt had tears running down her cheeks, and believe me, she and Dad didn't always get along so well.