Beautifully Sad

Going through life you never know what will happen. You never know what kind of people you will meet and maybe later on loose. You never know if you will be asked to prom by that cute guy in your history class, and you never know if the world you are seeing today will be the same world you see tomorrow. You never know anything except that we are alive in this exact moment, and who says we even know that for sure.. I remember when I was little, when I had moved back to Hudiksvall after living in Stockholm for six years, I always used to visit my grandparents. I would sit down and draw with my grandma and my grandpa, would teach me how to play different card games, especially solitaire, and I would love that..

On march 26th this year, I was arriving home from spending a week in Valencia with my Spanish class. I remember getting in the car with my parents, I remember them driving me home and just as we parked I realized we were driving my grandparents car and I remember asking them "Mom, why are we driving grandpa's car?" My mom looked at my dad before looking back at me with sadness in her eyes "Sweetie, grandpa's in the hospital, they think he had a stroke." From there it's a blur, I remember crying, I remember my dad telling me that he was going to be okay, and I remember believing him.

The weeks pasted, my grandpa had got out of the hospital and all of us were now waiting to hear back from the doctors. When we finally did they didn't bring us the news we had hoped for. He'd had a stroke, but they had also found something else. That one thing that makes every ounce of hope you have fade with a snap of your fingers, that one thing called cancer.

Three months after we found out about the disease, people started saying goodbye to him. I didn't want to, I didn't want to see him like that, I wanted to remember him as the card playing, all-knowing musician that he was.

After a couple of days, maybe it was weeks even, I went over to my grandparents house. I stepped into their living room and saw him lying on the hospital bed placed infront of the tv. My mom had came there with me and she was out in the kitchen talking to my grandma. I could hear them talking, I could hear a daughter comforting her mother, even though she was just as sad herself. You see, during this time my mom was very brave, she always is, but if I were in her position, I don't know if I could be as brave and strong as her. 

I looked away from the kitchen and slowly made my way towards the bed, towards my grandfather. His skin wasn't pale like you would think it was, instead it was a strange yellow color. I would've preferred if it was pale, I don't think he would've looked as sick as he did right then. I sat down in the chair next to the bed. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. What was I thinking, I should've thought about this more instead of just expecting it all to come to me right there and then..

"Hi grandpa," I said, then I sat quiet. I let my eyes gaze over him. From his almost bald head, to his big red nose and all the way down to his sock covered feet sticking out from under the blanket he had over him. I sighed. How was I supposed to do this, I thought. I can't say goodbye, I'm not ready. I turned away from him and looked around the room. My eyes instantly landed on the dark brown piano. I wanted to sit down and play, but I figured I'd not. I didn't know if anyone had played on it since grandpa got sick, he always used to play. Whether it was classical or jazz, he always used to play on that piano or his trumpet in the basement, and it was beautiful. When I was little and I'd come here and sometimes I would sit down by the piano with my grandpa next to me and he would show me how to play songs and melodies the easiest ways. The things I'd do to hear him play again.

Thirty minutes had passed. I closed my eyes. Just do it, you need to say something.. "I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you," I said, "I wasn't expecting this you know, you were supposed to," I paused and took a deep breath. My eyes were starting to fill with tears. I instantly got angry with myself, I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to feel weak. I tried again. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." I couldn't do it. I wiped the tears running down my cheeks and stood up from the chair. I was almost about to leave, when I heard the crying again. This time it wasn't only my grandma crying, my mother was crying as well. They were talking in low voices, whispering, like they didn't want me to hear, but I could hear them without question. My grandma was telling my mother about when the nurses came here, and how they tried to get in contact with him, without any success. She was trying to get her words out but were too often stopped by her own crying.

I was still fighting back my tears when I sat down and took my grandpa's hand. I looked upon him, deciding wether I should say something or not. In the kitchen my mom was about to say goodbye to grandma. We had been here for an hour already and we had to go grocery shopping for tonight's dinner before the store closes. As my mother was calling for me, I still hadn't said anything more to my grandpa. "I'll be there in a second," I told my mom. "Goodbye grandpa, I love you," the lump in my throat was growing as I leaned over him and kissed his forehead. When I came into the hallway, my mother was still talking to my grandma. She was standing with her clothes on and was now only waiting for me. Her makeup was slightly smudged and her eyes were red. I probably looked the same, all three of us did. We said goodbye to grandma and went out the door.

The next morning when I woke up, I stayed in bed for a while as I always do on weekends. The sky was covered with clouds but light still managed to sip through the purple curtains covering my balcony door. I looked at the clock, chocked that it was already 10:30. I sat up, listening, hoping to hear some kind of sound that would indicate that I wasn't the only human being living in this house. Nothing. I didn't think about it much more, and just a few minutes later I was almost fast asleep again when I heard a door slam shut downstairs. Footsteps were heard from the stairs that lead up to my room and in came my dad. He peeked around the corner to see if I was awake, and when he saw that I was he sat down beside me. By the look on his face I knew something wasn't right, and I think I knew all along what he was going to tell me.

After my dad told me about grandpa, that he had passed away just after midnight this night, the only thing I can remember is me crying. I don't know what I said to my mom when I saw her later that day, I don't know when I stopped crying.. I just remember him saying those words and that I buried my head into my pillow and cried.

Even if I was sad I think that I had some feeling of relief as well. I had postponed me saying goodbye for weeks, and the day I finally get to say goodbye to him, he let's go. Sometimes I like to think that he was waiting for me. That he knew that I would come sooner or later, that he was holding on just for me. I believe that, and I believe that this is beautifully sad, at least that's what I'm telling myself. I think it helps me accept it, accept the fact that he is no longer with us. Accept the fact that I won't hear him play the piano again, that I won't hear the attenuated trumpet playing in the basement, or that I won't be with him when he plays the accordion while everyone else is dancing around the Maypole. And I guess I'm okay with that now.

Going through life you never know what will happen. You never know what kind of people you will meet and maybe later on loose, but if you were to loose someone, which all of us eventually are bound to do, you will be sad, you will be heartbroken, but when you stop being sad, when you are somewhat okay with it all, you will realize that they didn't leave you. They still exist, only now they exist in your memories.