Requiem Ch. 03

"So, I'm basically reliving your memory as a kid? I enjoy the story. It's... cool."

"Cool? I suppose that's adequate. Has this word 'cool' transitioned its meaning from the word 'interesting' overnight?" An odd expression crossed his face.

"How queer. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time a word's meaning has been altered over a short span of time." The soft gray eyes swept over my face, observing.

"Now then, why do you think I gave you this book? You and her look a quite alike, you know. The real Alice never had golden locks like she's so often portrayed. She was a brunette, just like you." He pointed his fingers at the thick, honey-colored mane of hair that covered my head. "However, you're different. Your hair is golden like honey. It's an obvious mixture of both colors. You look just as your father did at his age."

I smiled as I braided a strand of hair that fell loose from my bangs. I took a random guess at his question.

"Because we relate to one another. Me and Alice..."

"Uh, uh... Alice andI." A single finger was waving left to right in front of my face.

"Alice andI relate to one another. That's the reason you gave me the book."

Paul Fischer nodded his approval.

"Yes, ...and no. It's a tad bit complicated. Think of this as an initiation of granting you knowledge that no one else can have made available to them." Aside from my grandfather's serious tone, his calm demeanor outweighed his original plan of asserting sternness.

"But, I... I'm not sure I understand. That book has been in print for over a century. So, how could I be..."

"...Considered special amongst millions and billions of others who have read the same material as you have?" He intertwined his fingers, which blocked his mouth from my view, yet his words carried volume nonetheless.

"Well... yes."

"It is more often than not that our eyes fly past certain symbols, images, and signs without giving a second thought as to where they came from. Why are they here and there? What do they mean? It's called hiding in plain sight and there are other formal names like subliminal messaging. It simply means that certain messages are hidden in plain view so that others cannot understand, or they chose to not understand by keeping a blind eye as perspective."

Scratching my head, I came to the conclusion that it was difficult to wrap my head around the idea, yet I understood the gist of my grandfather's words; most of the children at school, if not all of them could barely pronounce English vocabulary words correctly... And, I knew that reading and recognizing symbols did not fall under that category either.

"What kind of knowledge?"

"The greatest ever known. And, it was known. Once... long, long ago. My introduction sounds like a fairytale, does it not? How is it not apt to say that through the eyes of children can we fully understand our potential? It's preposterous to say no. In my eyes, we are all a perfect image of God, or this so-called great being in the sky, which I do not believe holds a specific gender, but is in fact genderless! However, I am not here to discuss controversial topics with you, yet sometimes they're inevitable. I know I must sound loony to you, dear, but I promise it'll make sense one day. One day you'll open your eyes to find the air feels different then it did before and the process of the repetition of 'living life' will mean nothing. Life is not a mere final thing, Sherron. Life is eternal. We are all actually sleeping."

"Sleeping?" I felt my attention wane with hearing the words.Sleeping?I thought.That's so not true that it's difficult to believe.

"Yes. Sleeping. When we dream, we live to our fullest potential. In the spirit world lies reality. This... you and I sitting here in this room is nothing but a frame from a film negative, which encompasses a gargantuan reel of film always turning like a windmill. We are brought here to this planet to live out these moments along the cracked surface of time to learn from our mistakes. And, we are marked from birth till death with other people who we love forever. I believe in something like that."

"So... There is no God?" I was intrigued by the conversation but I felt as though I were moving through quicksand; religion and the belief in God is such a taboo topic.

Grandpa Paul sighed and waved his hands in front of him as if to say,Wait a minute, it'll make sense.

"Now, I don't want your mother breathing down my neck like the last time I told you something that was supposed to stay between us." A smile crept over his thin lips after resting his chin on his hands.

"But, that wasn't my fault! Mom literally just asked me what we talked about before I headed to school, and she just guessed! I only said you taught me about dinosaurs and the Cretaceous period. I swear!"

"Uh huh, and somehow your mother put those two together and told me to stop filling your head with stories of aliens, UFOs, extraterrestrial life, etc. Well, I am happy she tolerates me because I am related to her wonderful daughters and husband, but I don't think forgiveness is in it for me." The half smile he wore didn't fool me; I knew my grandfather was behind every prank performed in the household. All of which were directed towards my mother.

"Perhaps, grandpa, she wouldn't be so cruel towards you if hadnothave said that we live in a Police State-"

"Actually, I directed that comment about this household." Paul's cheeks turned a shade of pink as small giggles left his lips. I was so astounded that such a silly sound could have come from my grandfather that his words flew past my head.

"Oh my God, you're giggling!"

He looked at me incredulously.

"Well, of course I am! Men giggle, too. Men and women are one in the same. We are just alike. I would divulge in more, but I digress."

"Why cant you?" My curiosity piqued suddenly, although I had no idea why.

"It's a little complicated explaining things of maturity to children, especially if it concerns the human anatomy. I would love to tell you more, but I..." His words trailed off as his eyes caught hold of something to his right. The soft, gray eyes skidded to a halt on a shelf packed with paperbacks and historical texts.

"Perhaps, it wont be so difficult if I have Plato to help me." His eyebrows were raised as if he were looking at an angel or a ghost, but all I could see were the shelves. Having minds of their own, his feet led him towards the book of his choosing; a slim black book with an engraved face of a man with hallowed eyes.

"Now, let's see here..." Paul began to flip the pages, skimming and flipping through to find the specific chapter.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This?" He closed the book and presented the cover so I could inspect it fully.

"This isThe Symposium.These are the dialogues of Plato, which are incredibly extensive because there are several other volumes within this series you are holding. It contains speeches from a group of Greek philosophers who discuss among their fellow man the meaning and nature of love." He clasped his hands together as if in praise.

I trailed my fingers over the engraved face of Plato on the cover, knowing that the words held within were actually spoken thousands of years ago. I felt the sensation of wonder and awe fill my bones as they never had before, which startled me; before this day I had never contemplated anything more than my wants and needs. I returned the book to him and he began flipping through, further and further until he proclaimed his discovery with, "Aha!"

"You found it?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

He smiled, licked his lips, cleared his throat and began the speech in a soft tone.

"Human beings were once spherical, with two sets of arms and legs, one head with two faces and four ears, and two sets of genitals, male, or female, or both, so that they were any of three kinds: male-male, male-female, female-female. These beings were very strong and, in their strength and pride, challenged the gods. So Zeus, in order to keep them alive but weaken them, had them cut in two by Apollo and their faces turned toward the cut, so that they might become more orderly by contemplating the fact of their own division.

The two halves of each whole were filled with longing for each other, and when they found one another they embraced and were unwilling to do anything apart; so they died from hunger and inability to act. The race would have perished, had Zeus not taken pity and turned their genitals to the front; they had before got children in the earth as the locusts do, but now in each other, male begetting in female. So this is the origin of Eros: he is inborn in us and unities our ancient nature, making one from two and healing us. Each of us is only the token of a human being, sliced like a flatfish, and ever seeking his matching token, whether that token is male or female.

When a half meets its other half, they are stunned by friendship and kinship and Eros, and they delight in being with each other. The reason for this is not desire for sexual intercourse; on the contrary, the soul of each wishes for something it cannot put into words. Lovers desire to live in a common life and die a common death, to become one in a complete and lasting union. The reason is that this was our ancient nature, and we were once wholes. So Eros is a name for the desire and pursuit of wholeness. It both arises from and strives to cure diremption of human nature."

Smiling to himself, he laid the book flat on the table and sighed. "Aristophanes was a comic poet and a wonderful human being. That was his speech and the story he spoke of was entirely original."

I felt dumbfounded after hearing my grandfather recite something so... impossibly beautiful. It was strange, but that moment defied reason for me. I felt something stir in my heart that I had never felt. I never knew how dead I felt or truly was before I heard that speech. It altered my life and sense of being. Fumbling for words, I opened my mouth yet nothing came out.

"I know it is difficult to process, Sherron. So you see, men and women are alike. We fall in love with people. You may find a man in your life that will be everything and more a loving husband should be. Or, you could find a woman who makes you whole."

"A... girl?" I said out of bewilderment. I had not experienced anything sexual at that age, of course, so for my grandfather to say that I could fall in love with a woman made me feel more confused than ever.

He looked over at me and for once didn't smile. Yet, he didn't have to; his eyes were beaming and full of love.

"You're too young to understand the nature of wanting to be with someone. However, you know that when you see mum and dad, the way they look at each other when others are not looking?" Paul asked.

"I suppose so. Yeah."

"Love is the look that those two give each other when others are usually not looking. Yet, you catch those whispered words and gazes and understand that even though you may not understand what they feel, it's there. Correct?" He panned his left hand out, motioning for me to answer.

"Yes. Correct." I said, starting to catch on. I always felt good whenever I'd catch my dad kiss my mother randomly. The smile would stay with her throughout the day and last till dusk came.

"There are two men that live four houses down from us that live together, and whenever I take my evening strolls, I see them both on the front porch basking in their own company. I'd say my hellos, as would they, and sometimes I'd catch them giving that same look your father gives your mother." He waited for my response as silence filled the room.

It wasn't difficult for me to understand what my grandfather was saying, but I still craved his knowledge and his teaching me all he knew.

"Just like Kathy's two moms?" I asked, thinking of one of the few friends I had at school. I remembered when I saw Kathy getting dropped off in the morning by her mother, and the next day it was a different woman. I asked Kathy if she had a nanny, because that's what our nanny, Maria, would do if my mother wouldn't be able to pick me up from school. Kathy gave me a peculiar look and said that they were both her mothers.

After inquiring about it, she told me that her father passed away in a boating accident, and a few years later her mother married another woman whom she fell in love with. Every time I'd see Kathy, she'd always tell me stories at home of how her second mother, Tilda, would always treat her as her mother would, so the differences between them became obsolete; having two parents made her whole, not the fact that one of them was missing or wasn't of the opposite sex.

"Yes, just as Kathy's two mothers. Love exists anywhere. It exists everywhere." He breathed in deeply, sighed, and walked away from me to peer out the gargantuan window.

"There is love that is sexual. And, I know you're old enough to not giggle at the word by now." He turned his head near his shoulder, raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner aimed at me. "And, there is non-sexual love, or Platonic love. The love you have for your mother, sister, your father, your friend, Kathy and myself. Do you understand the difference, pumpkin?" His endearment made me smile, as it always had. There's something about endearments that lulls and coaxes me to listen intently; I've always felt it was because of the way the words are expressed that truly give it more meaning than a mere word.

"I do." I nodded my head as well.

"And, ..." Grandpa Paul turned towards me, his back towards the window, and walked directly past me to yet another wooden-disguised closet along the circular shelves. "...We can also love inanimate things. I do not mean that for you to take out of context either. What I am trying to convey here is that there are things of this physical world that allow us to enjoy life more fully, but always in moderation. This can be spoken of for alcohol, drugs, anything that requires your wanting to feel more or to feel less. And, there are other outlets that people express interest in, such as hobbies." The dark abyss of the closet looked ominous to me seated so far away, yet I felt this excitement swell within me, gaining more and more momentum till I would burst.

I felt a transition. I knew something was going to change within me forever at this point in time, however, I could not understand why or how I could possibly know. The ocean of thoughts that occupied my brain crashed against the walls of my skull, wave after wave. I observed my grandfather remove a black case, quite oblong shaped, and retreat back to the desk where I was still sitting since placing me there to clean my knees.

"Hobbies can range, of course. For another example, Sherron, you love to paint and draw. You were born with such a gift, my girl. I've read some of your poetry you'd allow me to read every once in a while, out of respect of your privacy, of course. A ten-year old girl moved me. My heart stirred in its chest when I read those lines. I believe you have a heart of gold. As does your sister, I love her very much too." Resting the case on the desk, he maneuvered it so the clasps along its side were facing me.

"However, I don't think she has the interests in life such as you. She's more like her mother. You, Sherron, are a spitting image of your father, who is another look-alike of your dear ole' granddad." He smiled with his teeth, trying in vain to look thirty years younger than his eighty.

I smirked at my grandfather's cheekiness. Trailing my eyes downward, I took in the image of the black case, wondering what it could be. My fingertips brushed the surface, feeling the cool material and moving further along to feel the brass latches locked in place. Typically, my curiosity got the best of me.

"What is this, grandpa?" I squeaked, my throat felt tight from the abundance of excitement.

"It's another talent that you posses that's latent in you. And, I have a curious feeling you'll fall in love with what's in here," He tapped his index finger on the case, "...because music is a language. Very few of us have the ability to speak it correctly. But, those of us who do know the harmony in which it lives and thrives can and will inspire others. Some of us have a gift for analytical thinking, and they take the path of medical practice, law, scientific research, and anything along the lines of thought process. Others, like you, have a gift for the arts, to express the human soul with performance art, visual art, musical; the list goes on and on."

Musical? This is an instrument? But, what instrument looks like an obtuse triangle?

I peered back down to the case, straining my mind to think of what could possibly be inside this small box. I took a deep breath, unclasped the latches, and revealed the prize within.

My breath caught in my throat as I pushed the lid back. My fingers were grasping the faux fur lined along the case as I gazed at the violin nestled snugly inside, its bow reclining within the lining of the lid. I looked up at my grandfather in wonder, immediately turning back to the violin and covered my mouth with my hands out of fear I'd scream too loud from the bubbling excitement.

"I can't believe this... You're going to teach me to play the violin? But, I've never seen you play before." My voice croaked in awe. I could've sworn I saw tears forming out of the corner of his eyes.

"I do play. It's just difficult for me with my arthritis. However, I will teach you. I've been training my hands in intervals to ease the pain and to also sharpen my skills to instruct you properly. But, I believe the wait is finally over. In the beginning, you will learn like everyone else in the 20th century withMary had a Little Lambtill you can play... this. Listen." He reached down and gently parted the neck of the violin from its home and hoisted it below his chin. Grandpa Paul plucked the bow nimbly on the strings to test the sound, and once he was satisfied, he relaxed his shoulders, inclined his neck and began to play.

I heard a siren calling, humming beautifully from the wooden device, the strings were her voice beckoning, calling out. I was entrapped in a mosaic of melody so magically beautiful that I could not bear to part from the sound. My grandfather's wrist flew along the neck of the violin, playing with such grace I felt my heart stir, palpitating with the tempo. His fingers danced and swayed on the strings as the serenade resonated throughout the study and began rebounding off the walls, adding strength to the whirlwind I found myself in. Paul's eyes were closed, his face almost sublime aside from the contorted brow, relaxing and straining as each note carried its tone. The bow slowed till it finally ceased, adding the period to the perfect sentence and making it one and complete. How long his playing lasted, I do not know. Time was no longer linear during his performance.

With tears in my eyes, I noted that my grandfather had laid the violin by his side. He was looking at me, only his eyes were different. The soft gray eyes were replaced by piercing blue orbs, washed in visible concern. My mouth was still gaping open as my grandfather faded into nothingness. A black abyss encompassed my mind, stripping me from the long, suppressed memory and reeling me back in time. I felt my world shake and tremble as I begged the invisible force to let me be. I had missed my grandfather so much over the years; I felt it was only natural to think of him when my thoughts drifted to the performance I was to play soon. The darkness engulfed me, suffocating the light out of my eyes. I couldn't move. I was so paralyzed with fear.

Grandpa! Don't leave! Please!