How Fucking Gramps Saved Our Family

Barbara Williamson was an average woman with average intelligence, average looks, and an average disposition. Like the overall average of married women in America, Barbara had gone through a divorce when her not-so average husband, James, left her for a beatnik poet named Alessandria Pinot Grigio. The only thing he wanted in the divorce, he said, was the Impala, the newer of their vehicles. Barbara could have the '91 Taurus and the house. She thought that to be an equitable trade even though the Taurus always seemed to be in need of one service or another.

Barbara lived in her average house, in her average neighborhood, with her little more than average daughter, Jill, a chubby girl with a sunny disposition whom one would not immediately call pretty, but she was darned cute thanks mostly in part to her brick-red hair and her freckles. Jill attended the local community college where she was training to be a cosmetologist. Sadly, like her mother, she was currently unattached, but unlike her mother, that never stopped Jill from hanging out with her friends and having a good time. Barbara, it seemed, had given up on the prospect of anything good ever coming into her life again.

About a week after James filed for divorce, Barbara's mother, Edna, lost her battle with cancer. Her father, Edward, now lived alone in the spacious house in which Barbara was raised. He had told her that he could not bear to be there by himself, so he suggested that Barbara put her house on the market and she and Jill could move in with him. It would mean Jill transferring to another school, considering that Edward lived out of state, but Jill was optimistic about the change in scenery, which tipped the scales currently held by Barbara's indifference.

Once the move had been made, Barbara gained employment at Costco and quickly made a name for herself with associates and management alike. Twice she had been named Employee of the Month and was currently in the running for Employee of the Quarter. During all this, she tried her level best to keep her father occupied with one thing or another, which meant taking him to the Senior Center every Monday through Friday. Edward protested, though, stating, "All those geezers there are just waiting for Death to claim them." If Barbara had looked closely at her father, she very well could have said the same about him.

It was not to Barbara that Edward opened up, though, but Jill, as Barbara's indifference toward most everything but her job gave anyone who dared engage her prevented interaction on any level, and the conversation with Jill occurred one night after dinner while Barbara was bathing. Let's join that conversation in progress.

"I'm telling you, Jilly, that place has the stench of death in the air."

"Oh, don't exaggerate it, Gramps. I'm sure it's quite nice."

"I'll tell you what," Edward said as he sat on the edge of his recliner. "Come by for a visit tomorrow after your mother drops me off and see for yourself. If you still think I'm lying, I'll continue to go without another word, but if you are convinced that I'm telling the truth, you convince your mother to stop taking me to that damned place."

"Okay," Jill answered. "Sure, Gramps. I'll be there tomorrow no later than ten."

Jill lived up to her promise. She had not been inside the place for more than a minute when she grabbed her grandfather by the wrist and whisked him away to the safety of the outside world. "Geez, Gramps. I'm so sorry. I never knew."

"Well, now you do," Edward said a bit sarcastically. "Now take me home so I can get on with my life." The remainder of the ride was made in silence.

Once home, Edward made to go to his room, but Jill stopped him and said, "Unh-uh, Mister. Not yet. Come in the living room. We need to have a talk."

Edward reluctantly obeyed her, seating himself in his recliner. "So, go ahead then. Talk."

"You said that the senior center was full of old geezers just waiting to die, but what about you, Gramps? It seems you're content to just wither away now that Gramma is gone. I love you, and I want you around for a long, long time."

Edward broke down crying. "I just miss her so much, Jilly, and now that's she's gone, what reason do I have to live?"

"Me," Jill said as she placed a comforting hand on his. "I want you to walk me down the aisle on the day that I get married, Gramps. Promise me that you'll start taking better care of yourself. You don't exercise, you aren't eating like you should ... I bet you've lost ten-fifteen pounds since we moved in."

Edward clasped his free hand around the one Jill had placed upon his other. "I'll try."

"No, you won't try, you'll do, or else I'm going to have to call one of those assisted living people to make you do it."

Edward laughed. "I bet you would." He laughed again. "Sounds like something Edna would say. You look a lot like her when she was your age, you know."

"No, Gramps. I don't. I never saw any pictures of her when she was young."

"I have some in a box in my room. Let me go get them." Edward left, then reappeared about five minutes later carrying a shoebox filled to the brim with old photos. He searched for a few seconds, then pulled one out and handed it to Jill. "Here. Tell me what you think of that."

"Wow," Jill remarked as she took possession of it. "The resemblance is uncanny."

"You've got a good piece of her personality as well, Jilly."

"Then I'm a better woman for it," Jill responded, "but back to what we were discussing earlier: You need to start living a better life, Gramps."

"I'm sorry, Jilly, but I don't know that I can. Edna was everything to me, and with her gone, I just don't have the gumption to go on alone."

"Well, can you at least try?" Jill asked. "For me?"

"I'm tired," Edward said in way of a response. "I think I'm going to go lay down." He returned to his room with the box of photos under his arm.

About thirty minutes into his nap, Barbara called to tell Jill that she would be working a double. "It's a great opportunity for some overtime, plus it might sway me getting that Employee of the Quarter prize. Anyway, pick your grandfather up from the senior center around four. I should be home by eleven-thirty."

Of course, Jill did not tell her mother that Gramps was already home and that he wouldn't be going back to the senior center. That was a conversation they would have tonight. In the meantime, though, Jill on the spot planned to make a meatloaf with a side of green beans. Upon Jill and Barbara moving in, Edward had told the two that some of Edna's stuff had been stored in the attic. Of this "stuff" was clothing, nick-knacks, and recipes, just to mention a few. Jill thought to surprise Gramps with a meatloaf made from Edna's old recipe, so she ventured into the attic to search it out.

Jill took her time as she was unfamiliar with the attic. She walked carefully, testing every board she stepped upon. She soon made her way to the back and began opening boxes. The first contained some old comic books. She knew they were old because the prices varied from five cents to ten cents. She saw Batmans and Supermans and Captain Americas, and even though she didn't know their exact worth, she had to imagine that Gramps was sitting on a little gold mine.

Jill opened a second box and found post cards and letters. She looked at a few and saw that some had come from Korea. Gramps was in the Korean War, wasn't he? Deeming the letters too personal, she closed the box without a second look.

She pulled a large box out and opened it to find a smaller box inside. She removed the smaller box and noticed it had been sitting atop ... something. She pulled the "something" from the box to discern it was a wig, gray in color and just below the ear in length. She surmised that this must be what Gramma had worn when she lost her hair due to chemo. Under the wig was a black dress with a dark red pattern running throughout its entirety and white lace cuffs at the end of the long sleeves and around the neck. She held it up and it looked like it would fit her. She thought to try it on but decided against it. Jill placed the dress and wig back in the box, then opened the smaller box to reveal that she had found her grandmother's recipes. She made her way back downstairs. It was too early to make preparations for dinner, so she spent the remainder of Gramps's nap time sifting through Edna's recipes.

"What do you have there?" It was Edward, who had awakened from his nap.

"Oh, hey Gramps," Jill called over her shoulder. "I found Gramma's recipes. I hope you don't mind. I thought I'd try to make her meatloaf tonight."

"That would be wonderful, Jilly. What were you going to make with it?"

"Green beans and mashed potatoes and gravy."

Edward smiled. "Come this way." He went to the cupboard and had Jill empty the top shelf, then he pulled a couple of boards loose, reached in, and grabbed a Mason Jar that contained green beans. "She always loved to can stuff. We've got these, tomatoes, okra, and a few other things I can't remember right off. Our secret though, okay?"

"Our secret," Jill agreed. "Oh, and it's just going to be you and I for dinner tonight. Mom's working a double."

"Fine with me," Edward responded. "Even when she's here, she's not here."

"I know what you mean, Gramps. I'm sorry."

"Not your place to apologize for your mother's actions, Jilly." Edward remained silent for all of two seconds before adding, "She got divorced, but she acts like she's the one suffering through a spouse's death."

"In a way, she is," Jill said, taking advantage of the little something she learned in her Modern Psychology class. "A divorce is like a death, Gramps. It's the death of what was and can never be again."

"Tell me that again after you watch your husband wither away from cancer," Gramps spat before leaving the kitchen in a huff.

Jill thought to go after him but decided to just allow him time to cool off. She was correct in her analogy, but hindsight showed her that perhaps she could have found a better analogy upon which to base her argument. She sighed, then decided that two o'clock was not too early after all to begin dinner.

Edward peeked his head into the kitchen around four-thirty. "Now there's something I haven't smelled in over two years."

"Gramps!" Jill exclaimed when she turned and saw him. She rushed to his side and hugged him. "I'm so sorry I upset you earlier. Will you forgive me?"

"Jilly, I'm the one who's sorry," Edward said as he hugged her back. "I was so angry at your mother and I took it out on you. Let's just put it all behind us."

"Officially behind us."

"Good. Now what time for dinner?"

"Well, I still have to do the mashed potatoes and gravy. Say ... Forty-five minutes?"

"Enough time for me to get my bath," Edward responded. He kissed his granddaughter's cheek before exiting to do just that.

"It all smells so wonderful," Edward said as he sat to eat. He made a crater in his mashed potatoes, then filled that with the green beans, then liberally doused the entire thing with gravy before adding gravy to the meat loaf. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, then began to weep.

"Gramps? What's wrong?"

"It tastes so much like hers," he managed to say. "Almost like she was here with us."

"Her memory always will be, Gramps."

"It's not the same," he said as he pushed himself from the table. He went to his room and locked the door. When Jill tried to reason with him, he said, "Edna and I will be reunited soon enough." After that, he stopped answering his granddaughter.

She knew he wouldn't commit suicide, but wasn't he doing just that by slowly starving himself to death? There had to be some way of reaching him, though. Jill just had to figure out what that "some way" was.

Edward did not come out of his room the remainder of the evening. Jill had gotten the skeleton key and unlocked his door to check on him and found him in bed, lightly snoring. It was all she could do to keep from laughing when she noticed that he had an erection, simply because she didn't think men in their seventies could get one. She exited his room and had just made it to the living room when her mother walked in. "Hi, Mom. How was work?"

"You mean how was eight hours at eighteen dollars per, don't you?" Barbara said too matter-of-factly. "Anyway, worth it. Not only did I endear myself to the managers, but I have enough to get the Taurus aligned now. Anyway, what's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green beans, all from Gramma's recipe."

"Where did you find that?"

"Up in the attic."

"Where I've told you not to go," Barbara said coarsely. "I told you it's dangerous up there. No telling how old those boards are."

"I was careful," Jill told her mother. "Besides, I was trying to do something to pull Gramps out of his funk."

"What funk?" Barbara asked. "I haven't noticed any funk."

"That's because the only person you've been interested in since Dad left has been yourself," Jill responded. "If you would take just a second and look around you, you'd have noticed that Gramps has lost about fifteen pounds since we've been here. He's given up on life, Mom. He wants to die. He wants to be with Gramma again."

"And what makes you think that?" Barbara asked.

"He told me as much. And you know what? I might as well go ahead and tell you, I pulled him out of that senior center today. It was one step away from being a mortuary housing the near-dead. Gramps doesn't like it there and I don't think he should return."

"Just who the hell are you to decide something like that?" Barbara near-spit.

"First of all, I didn't decide it. Gramps did. Second, if it were up to anyone else, I'd have every right to do so seeing as to how your level of caring has dropped off the radar."

"I will not be reprimanded by my own daughter."

"You will listen to whatever it takes for you to get your head out of your ass, Mom. There are more important things going on around here than your job at Costco or how impressed your supervisors are or how close you are to winning something that doesn't mean jack shit compared to the real world that's going on around you."

"How dare you."

"How dare you!" Jill returned. She started toward her room and called over her shoulder, "Your food is in the oven."

"I've suddenly lost my appetite," Barbara answered before going to her own room.

Jill checked in on Edward before going to her room. He was still asleep. She was glad that the argument with her mother didn't wake him. She pulled out her phone and brought up her playlist. She cycled through it a bit before finding a good enough starting point. With ear buds securely in place, she lay down and slowly fell asleep.

The next morning Jill entered the kitchen to find Edward and Barbara discussing his decision to not return to the senior center. "I still think it's the best place for you, Dad. Don't all your friends attend there as well?"

"All my friends are either dead, have one foot in the grave, or are living out their golden years in some RV as they cross this great nation of ours."

"Well, we can't afford an RV."

Edward laughed. "Maybe you can't."

"I'm in charge of your finances, Dad. I know for a fact that you can't, either."

Edward laughed again, then said, "I can just stay at home. I'll be alright."

"You need someone looking after you, and with classes starting up again next week Jill won't be able to do that."

"I'm not an invalid, Barbara, and if anything happens I'll dial 9-1-1 and say, 'I've fallen, and I can't get up.'"

"Ha-ha-ha," Barbara said sarcastically, "but you do bring up a good point. Maybe we should look into getting you set up with one of those services."

"Whatever gets you off my back," Edward offered as a reply.

"You don't seem too grateful that we're here," Barbara retorted.

"Don't forget that you are in my house, young lady. Not that you're here when you are." To accentuate this point, Edward placed his forefingers at his temples and spiraled them into the air. "Don't have any concern for anyone but yourself ... whatever makes your life easier by not having to deal with the fact that your husband left you."

Barbara just stared at him.

"That's right. I said it. He left you, and you've been one big pity party since." Edward got up from his place at the table and went to his room, leaving behind the untouched and now cold eggs and bacon that Barbara had fixed him for breakfast.

Jill stood there until her mother met her gaze, then shot her a hateful look before chasing after her grandfather. Once at his door, she knocked. "Gramps? It's Jill. Let me in."

"Go away, Jilly. Just leave me be."

"Come on out, Gramps. You need to eat something considering you didn't eat last night."

"I'll not be coming out as long as that shrew is here."

"Can I at least bring it to you?"

"Leave it by the door."

Jill returned to the kitchen where her mother was eating the food on Edward's plate. That was okay. Jill would just fix him a nice helping of last night's leftovers.

"I expect you to back me on matters of your grandfather, Jill."

"If you were in the right, I would."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that everything he has said is true," Jill told her, "but you're too butthurt to get past it and get on with your life."

"I'll not be spoken to like that."

"Whatever. Just go to work. That seems to be the only thing that makes you happy anymore."

Barbara stood there, silent, then let out a big huff before collecting her things and getting on her way. As the door closed, Jill could barely make out her mother saying, "...don't know how lucky they are to have me."

Jill set the food next to Edward's door and knocked. "Food's ready, Gramps. It's by your door. I'm heading into town for a bit. See you when I get back." She waited for a response, but there was none, so she left.

That was at eight o'clock. It was just coming up on two when she returned home. She went to Edward's room to find the plate of food still outside his door. Worried, she knocked frantically. "Gramps? You okay?"

"Leave me be, Jilly. Just let me die in peace."

Tears filled Jill's eyes. She honestly did not know how to respond to that. She took the plate to the kitchen and dumped its contents in the trash before washing it. She could understand her grandfather's grief, but that did not mean she had to accept it. She had to think of some way of reaching him. There must be some way, on some level, but how? She was convinced that divine intervention might be the only way. Then she brightened. Maybe not divine intervention, but how about the supernatural? "Am I really considering this?" she asked herself aloud. If it offered a chance at saving her grandfather's life, she didn't see how she couldn't. With hope springing within her heart, she made her way to the attic.

That night for dinner, Jill made taco salads. She knew Edward liked them seeing as to how Barbara had fixed them probably twenty times since they had moved in. Tonight, though ... When she went to her grandfather's door to announce that dinner was ready, he told her he wasn't hungry. Jill reported this to her mother, who beat and banged on her father's door while demanding that he come to the table. Reluctantly he did, but he just picked at his food for thirty minutes before making his way to the living room. He watched the news, then Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, then, citing fatigue, he went back to his room.