Smiling Through the Tears

So, I don't want you to think that I'm just some bitter hag who got a little pissy because the waiter brought me cold soup or because I had a hair or two in my salad, ruining my Valentine's dinner. This is the lovely story of how I spent Valentine's Day and the past week... If you're looking for a fun, uplifting post, this probably isn't it. Blogging is cheaper than therapy and so I'm taking this opportunity to spill...

My parents called last Monday night. My grandpa had a doctor's appointment and, although I still don't know what actually happened at the appointment, the news wasn't good. His heart was giving out and he wasn't going to make it. We had planned to go out there on Sunday to see him, but his condition deteriorated rapidly during the week. We picked my sister, Allison, up at the airport Saturday night and drove straight out to Long Island.

When we got there, my grandma was fighting back tears. Like all women in our family, she is a tough cookie and seeing her so rattled really threw me. I climbed the stairs to their bedroom with a tremendous sense of trepidation. Although my parents had prepared me the best they could, I still wasn't sure what I'd encounter inside the room. And though words are my business, I had no idea what to say to him.

Like most of my best speeches, I still have no idea what came out of my mouth. I think he knew that I was there for him. He opened his eyes briefly and squeezed my hand. When I kissed him goodbye, he sighed and in that moment, I knew I'd never see him again.

The call came around 5 in the morning. So my Valentine's Day began bright and early and so heartbreakingly sad. I've been out on Long Island ever since trying to hold it together for everyone else, trying like hell to hold everyone else together when they were falling apart. The funeral was on Tuesday in the middle of the snow storm.

The last few days at my grandparent's have been tough. As I sat in the kitchen, I remembered my grandpa trying to teach me the lindy hop. The man was a fabulous dancer and had remarkable patience as I trampled his feet because I wouldn't let go and follow his lead. Instead, he'd usually twirl me around the floor a couple times and get Alli to do the right steps.

When I walked into the dining room, I couldn't help but think about all the family dinners we've had at that table. The passover seders, with my grandpa mispronouncing the same words every year. He'd hide the affikomen in the same place every year and pretend to be shocked at how quickly we could find it. How he quickly adopted hubby into the family, giving him money for not finding the affikomen just like everyone else.

It was so strange being in the den and seeing grandpa's empty chair. The one he'd always fall asleep in after dinner. I kept turning the corner and expecting to see him there.

But hardest was going into the basement. That basement was many things... Where he taught me to play bounce penny. Where my dad's drumset was banished. Where he taught my sister to throw a wicked jab.


The basement was grandpa's space. Grandpa taught himself to be an amazing jeweler. He started out reading books and then toying around with cheap stones, trying out new techniques until he perfected them. Then he'd upgrade the stones and make the most amazing things, the designs, the pieces.

He loved to see his girls in sparkly things. If I had forgotten to clean my jewelery, he would always look at me, shake his head and tell me it was disgraceful how dirty the diamonds were. Then he'd smile as he unclasped my necklace and take it downstairs, run it through the cleaning machine and come back with a perfectly sparkling necklace.

He was the same way when he made my engagement ring. He designed it, spent weeks going to the diamond district until he found the perfect piece of blue tanzanite for the center stone. When he went to pick up the ring, it had a small scratch in the right corner. Grandpa refused to pick up the ring until they had buffed out the scratch and the ring was absolutely perfect for me.

His negotiating tactics were legendary. I had the opportunity to see him in action when hubby and I went to get our wedding bands. We met grandpa in the diamond district and he took us around. We already knew what we wanted, having scoped things out at the local mall (horrifying my grandfather because when you have a family member "in the business" you do NOT buy retail...EVER) and had a ballpark idea of what it would cost us.

My grandpa went into a store and got a horrified look on his face when the guy quoted us a price. He pulled the guy aside. The first thing he said was, "I'm in the business. You're going to do better than that. This is for my granddaughter." I tapped hubby on the shoulder and whispered "watch this." Grandpa haggled the guy down to the point where we were getting 2 rings for less than the price of 1 in the mall. Then grandpa came back to us and apologetically told us that he could have done better if it wasn't a holiday weekend and did we want to come back another day. We bought the rings and the jeweler told us, with an obvious sense of awe, that my grandpa was a hell of a negotiator and that he was very proud of me, his lawyer granddaughter.

This is grandpa's desk, with his sweater that he'd always wear in the basement because it's ice cold down there. He always used to hide pieces he wanted to give us in the upper right hand drawer.

Being in the basement tonight brought tears to my eyes. It didn't quite feel like his space anymore. It was colder, emptier. But I could almost see him wrapped in that sweater, reaching into the desk drawer with his huge smile and pulling out a silver bracelet. I could hear his voice, clear as a bell, telling me that there was one for me, one for Alli and one for our cousin when she was old enough to wear in.

I miss him terribly and no family gathering will be the same without him. No Thanksgiving will be the same without him in his white apron carving every last morsel of turkey off the bird, slipping pieces to the dog when he thought we weren't looking.

And though it breaks my heart that I won't see him again, I also know that I've been tremendously blessed by having him in my life for this long. So I'll smile through the tears and know that somewhere, my grandpa is there, watching over us, and driving people crazy going on endlessly about his granddaughters...

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So this isn't much of a "bell" post, but it's the best you get from me this week...