Flat cap

You were one of the very first people I have ever met, and one of the most important people in my life. If it weren't for you courageously moving your family to Chicago from Sicily, all your hard work, and your determination to provide a better life for us, I wouldn't be here today. You, along with Grandma, were the backbone of the family. I owe my happy childhood to you both.

The last time I saw you, we had a nice dinner with Grandma, during of which we discussed how America had a bad habit of blowing money on other countries instead of within ourselves. You pointed to the bowl of grapes in front of us and said (in your own way), "We're broke because our country buys food and things from other countries. These grapes could be from, I don't know, China. Grape farmers right here in America are struggling. I don't understand why we don't buy food from our own country."

After we talked some more, I had to go. I hugged both of you goodbye. I backed out of the driveway, waved at you for the last time, and drove away, having no idea that I would never see you again.

When Thanksgiving 2009 rolled around, I got in a huge spat with my dad (like always). He called me many cruel names and sent me a nasty passive-aggressive email just because I did not clean the mess his friend left behind in the kitchen, so I packed up my bag and left for a few days. I spent Thanksgiving alone in my friend's warehouse, eating pizza and watching bad foreign movies. Little to my knowledge, you were celebrating your last holiday ever. What I wouldn't give to be there with you on that day.

On Sunday, December 20, 2009, I got ready to visit you and Grandma, but when I was on my way out of the door, Pac Rat told me that my dad was at your house. I didn't want to put up with him, so I opted to stay home. "I'll visit Grandma and Grandpa another day, when dad isn't there."

On Tuesday, December 22, 2009, I made plans to see you and Grandma again, but my dad screamed at me and called me names over something petty (like always), ruining my mood. I was too depressed to see anyone, so I went to the local laundromat and washed my comforter. Afterwards, I took a walk around the neighborhood, trying to blow off some steam. "I'll visit Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow, when I feel better."

On Wednesday, December 23, 2009, two years ago today, I woke up to a text message from my cousin that said, "Grandpa died this morning."

My dad took his grief out on me. All day, he yelled cruel things at me and shot me nasty looks, as if I was the one to blame for your death. I know if you were there, you'd tell him to stop. It was a terrible day for me, seeing you lie lifelessly on the table at the funeral home and seeing Grandma fall apart.

I regret not having spent more time with you before you suddenly died. However, I am trying not to repeat the same mistake with Grandma. I still don't want anything to do with my dad, but I manage to put up with him for Grandma's sake. I visit Grandma, even when he is there, and I try to be as nice as possible. I just wish I had done the same thing when you were alive. However, I comfort myself with the notion that you, wherever you are, understand and forgive me.

I see traces of you in myself, my sister, and my brother. I have your no-nonsense attitude. My sister has your Sicilian temper. My brother is the spitting image of you. Through us, your memory will live on.

I miss you, Grandpa. I can't believe it has been two years.