The Men Next Door

Ch 21 - Campbell

My grandpa never so much as replaced a picture frame in his house after grandma Martha died, and he carried on all of her holiday traditions to a T. Decorating the Christmas tree after Thanksgiving dinner was always one of our favorites.

She had an eye for detail, and every year, she would fluff the branches until they looked like something out of a department store magazine. Meanwhile, my grandpa told me outlandish stories about where he got all their eclectic ornaments. He was partial to a ceramic koala that he allegedly dug out of the sand on a beach in Australia, and even though I didn't believe him for a second, I loved the little guy too. Grandma, on the other hand, said that the chipping paint around its eyes made it look more like a rabid raccoon.

I was 12 the last year that she was alive at Thanksgiving, and it was the first time in my entire life that she didn't guide my hand as I placed the shimmering star on top of the tree. She claimed it was because I didn't need her help anymore, but the truth was, I hadn't needed her help since I was seven. She was simply too weak to stand on the step stool, and that moment was the first time I really understood how sick cancer had made her.

I missed her every year since, but I felt her absence more strongly than ever the year that I moved to New York. Their old house was gone — or at least, my grandpa and I were no longer welcome there — and celebrating in his new apartment just wasn't going to feel the same. I didn't want to imagine what the holidays would feel like once he was gone, too.

Thankfully, that dreadful day hadn't come yet, and I made my way back to Santa Barbara to visit him at the end of November. I was glad for the comically large numbers on each door in the old folks' community, because the apartments all looked identical: one story units in rows of five, all connected like townhouses, with stark white exteriors and burnt orange Spanish-style roofs.

Even with the impossible-to-miss address markers, I wasn't quite sure I had the right apartment when I knocked on number 3551. Was it actually 5331? Had I given the Uber driver the right address when I left SBA?

Just as I pulled out my phone to double check, I heard my grandpa's voice blare out through his video doorbell. "Oh, happy day! You're here!" he exclaimed.

I let go of the handle on my suitcase to wave to the small camera, and moments later, he opened the door and yanked me into a hug. I was slightly startled by how frail he felt around the shoulders, but I attributed it to not seeing him for over six months. He was probably that thin the last time I saw him too, right?

"Hi, JoJo," I greeted once he finally let me through the doorway. When I was first learning to talk, I couldn't say 'grandpa' or 'Jones,' so I settled on 'JoJo.' The nickname stuck, even after all these years. "I missed you. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm doing just fine, Cami. Don't you worry about little old me."

We stepped inside and I took a look around the place. It was certainly nice, but it didn't have half the amount of character as his old home. 'Empty' was the only word I could use to describe it, even though he'd decorated it to the nines. "How are you liking it here?"

"It's lovely, but... I don't think it will ever feel like home." He blinked back some tears, then shook his head in an attempt to shoo his negative thoughts away.

I gave him a sad smile. "This time of year is always hard, no matter where you are."

"It is," he agreed. "But I know moving here was for the best. I couldn't keep up with the house anymore, and it's good to be around other people. I'll have to introduce you to some of my neighbors."

"I would love that," I said, wandering around the apartment like a lost puppy. I'd seen the virtual tour before he settled on this community, and he'd video chatted me from every room after he moved in, but that day was my first time seeing it in person. "I'm glad you're making friends."