The Accident

More Franny coming at you, oh non-existent reader of this blog, since I can't seem to stop thinking about what she would do if situations from my life presented themselves to her (though obviously adjusted for time). Can't sleep since my grandfather died on the 12th and I'm still drifting about in a haze. I'm acting normal, and I feel normal much of the time, but I know it's only because I'm using books to bolster myself up.

I replace what's happening in my life with their lives, and then I don't have to think about all the things I wish I'd said and done with him, the way he always made me laugh, the habit he had of smacking his lips and going "Pah pah paaaaaaaaah" when he was trying to gather his thoughts, and the way he always (always) listened to what I had to say carefully, drinking in every word, and gave me advice as a person that had simply lived longer than me, not as someone who was older and wiser. I feel heartless and callous because I haven't cried much, but I know somehow that it's not because I don't feel the sadness; I've just locked it away and it only comes out every once in a while, in short bursts, like steam from a valve. I also haven't been home yet, haven't seen my grandma and my mom trying to deal with it all, and I know that part of my lack of sorrow is just that I can't accept that he's gone. I talked to him not a week ago, when he had pneumonia and could barely speak, but he was there and I can't understand that he's not anymore. So I hide myself away, grieve in small doses, and pretend that everything's ok, and I just hope to God that the inevitable explosion when it finally does hit me doesn't happen in a public place. What am I going to do without him? He was always one of the highlights of going home for me; even though he did very little he always had an amusing anecdote to share or an observation about something he'd seen on tv. He had such a big heart, and the smallest thing drove him to wonder. I always felt that with him I had found a true friend, a kindred spirit, one that could laugh and talk about everyday things by day and stare up at the stars and speak of the mysteries of creation at night. And now all of that is gone? The personality that shone from every pore, a spirit so big that no room could contain it, is gone? I know he's not really, that he can come visit me as Ryan has lately (and that now he's with Ryan and Ally and all of the people he's lost), but I cannot comprehend the loss. I can't.

And in that numbness I can still be a normal human being, and discuss the matter of his death calmly and sensibly. It struck me as very Franny-like of me, and I figured that the easiest way to understand her is to go through her reaction at the death of her parents, the deaths that drive her to become an Earthshaker someday (starting with the words that began this entire story). I can't go through my Jiggypa's death and feel the emotions, so I'm going along for the ride with Franny.

But I'm tired now, so I'll do it (hopefully) tomorrow.