I cried today for the first time in a very long time. I can't actually tell you when the last time I cried was. The earliest time I could think of was seeing Titanic at the theater. I know when I tell that to people I get called a "pussy". I don't care. When he died at the end I related to the saddness and it got to me. I'm not afraid of being called a "pussy" We all are at one time or another.

But the weird thing is is that many other situations where I'd of been expected to cry, I didn't. I didn't cry at either of my grandmothers funerals. Didn't cry at any funeral. And I didn't cry when one of my best friends committed suicide when I was 16. I can't understand why I didn't either. I mean, at first I was just in shock and felt that that was the reason, But as time went on, I never cryed about it. I probably learned it from my father. He's 62 years old and I've never seen him cry once. Ever! He's the type a' guy that insists on not letting your emotions show. His way of thinking is "buck up, and move on" That's very manly of him. If I had to vote most manly guy I know, dad would come in first place right behind John Wayne, and Genghis Kahn in a not-so-distant third. But I think that's about as much good that his "no public emotion" policy has gotten.

Same with my brother and my mother. Well, manybe my mother on a couple of occations. I think she was drunk both times. But not my brother.

So I finally got my car back today from the happy repo place. Boy, were they glad to see me. (Me + picking up car = they can't sell it) So I got attitude all over the place from them. My momma gave me a ride up. I borrowed her car last night and picked her up in the morning so she could drop me off at Sunnyday Repoland. She told me to pick her up at ten, translated to GJ time equals 11:30. She was NOT pleased. It threw her whole day off. She was gonna' visit my Grandpa in the hospital but had to delay that to another time due to a certain someone's lack of promptness. So she made me promise to fill in for her, and she'd go tomorrow. No problem I told her. Now, I've seen granpa in the hospital before. Lots of people around. 2 minute limit on visiting him. You're in, you're out, you're on with your life. Not like that today. Today he had NO limit on how much I could visit him, and not another soul around. Not that I needed either, but it was just a raw emotional momemnt that I try to avoid by any means possible.

But I take my man pill, so in I went. He looked like he was asleep but I couldn't tell, he's in a semi-coma. I walk in and just sit down next to him, trying to be quiet. Thinking I'll sit for a few minutes, leave a card and some flowers, and tell everyone what a hero I am for visiting my dying grandfather in the hospital.

One minute after I arrived the doctor came in and gave me his update. Said he's doing a bit better, seems to be making more contact with people. (Opening his eyes a bit, moving his hand, ect.....) She then turns on a light and says "Newt, you have a visitor!" I replyed, "should we wake him?" The doctor says that "he's not asleep, just in a coma" Try talking to him, it'll help him.

As she said that he struggled to open his eyes. He opened them both for a couple of seconds. Granpa looks really bad. He has all these tubes stuck in various places throughout his body. He has a big, big bruise on the right side of his head where they assume he hit the floor (we still don't know what happened!) He was breathing really loud. Like it took a lot of effort for him. He's paralyzed on his right side now, you can tell by his face. The right side of his mouth was just limp. Like it was dead on his face. He had something on his face and I got a tissue to wipe it off. He flinched a little when I touched him. He then made another attempt to open his eyes. I made sure everytime he opened his eyes I was there smiling. This time it seemed like he was making a very tiny smile with the left side of his mouth. I started my conversation with him. Telling him about whatever I could. I'm not one of those people that can carry a conversation without another party contributing. But I did my best. I told him about the family and how we were all thinking of him. I grabbed his right hand and held it. Now, we're not a touchy feely family. I never held my grandfathers hand before. Never hugged him. Never said "I love you". The men in my family are manly men that don't do that shit. So, I was taking a leap here. Anyways, I was talking to him, holding his right hand when I remembered that he can't move that hand. He was making efforts with his other hand so I moved my chair to the other side and grabbed his left hand. I saw him open his eyes again, I put on a smile. I kept talking to him like he wasn't there. Like he was asleep and couldn't hear me. When he opened his eyes I said "Grandpa, if you can hear me squeeze my hand" and he did. I said "if you hear everything I've said squeeze my hand" And he did again. Then I said "squeeze my hand if you're in a lot of pain" and guys, he squeezed my hand so hard it almost hurt me. That really brought me down. Then I started talking to him like I'd never talked to anyone before. See, he's my dad's step-father. He married my grandmother before I was born when my paternal grandfather passed away. I told him how important he was to me. How he total saved my grandmother after her husband died. How even though he wasn't a blood relative, he was as much part of my family as any other member. And what a great person he's been in my life, and the rest of us.

I don't think that I totally understood that he could comprehend what I was saying. It really felt to me like he was asleep and couldn't hear any of this. But when I was saying this, there was an obvious change in him. He was making little grunting sounds and kept squeezing my hand and releasing.

But the thing that made me realize that he was right there with me was when I saw a tear fall from his eye.

I stopped and paused for a second. I just held his hand and thought about everything he's done for me in my life. The walks he use to take me and my brother on, the holidays we've had over his house. I just kept staring at him and started balling.

I felt like shit all day after that. I remember when I was leaving how he watched me go, struggling to keep his eyes open. Like he'd never see me again.

In a way, I wish I hadn't gone. I feel so helpless and sad and can't shake that feeling. But I did the right thing. When Curt died (my friend who died when I was 16) I didn't go to the funeral or anything. I did my best to not make it real. But it still kills me.

What happened with him was began was just stupid kid stuff. If he made it through being a teenager, he would of been all set. See, when you're 16 you think you know it all. You really do, and you can get into some pretty dangerous territory with that attitude.

We were 16. Both young, angry and stupid. We both used to do LSD. He REALLY loved LSD. He lived really far away so I didn't see him that much, about once a month. I was gonna' see him in three days when my mom got a phone call. She got off and said "Curt's in jail, he killed somebody!" Now, Curt wouldn't hurt a fly. I've never seen him in a fight. Ever! He was a gentle guy. The story with that was. He was taking a LOT of LSD like he was customed to. Stumbled over to his girlfriend's house and saw 2 guys (who later turned out to be gang members, oddly enough) leaving her house. Curt attacted them with a knife he had on him. One of them died.

Curt woke up in jail not knowing what happened at all. He thought it might of been for posession. When I heard that he was in jail, I knew he'd kill himself and that's what he did. He hung himself in his cell. Just days after the arrest.

Now, some of you know that I flip out on people in D-land that write about hard drug use and what-not. But I just want you all to know what's behind that. I've seen drugs kill my friends in a lot of different ways. I miss Curt a lot. He was one of the funniest guys I know. He was always laughing and having a great time.

Drugs just fucking suck. They're just nothing but shit.

I'm not much of a praying type. But I've spent most of the day praying hard.

Please take care of yourself.

-GJ

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