Recently I have been unemployed. This means that Veronica has extended the list of things that I need to be doing around the house on a daily basis. This also relates directly to the amount of time I have been spending over at my Nana’s (my father’s mother) house helping her out as well. I know, interesting as I have never before mentioned her on this site.
A couple of years ago my other grandmother passed away, leaving me with only one. This was tragic as Grandparents are, by definition, the best people in the world. So pretty much the moment that I became unemployed I decided that my sole purpose would be to make my Nana’s life as easy as I possibly could. This has involved everything from weeding some flower beds to taking her grocery shopping.
The point of the story is that the more time that I spend with her the more I completely understand where my father gets his weird sense of humor.
This might seem like an odd thing to say, but you have to remember that at one point in my life if you told me that my father had a limited amount of words that he could say, ever, I would have thought that would have explain so very much about him. Now, after that statement, take into consideration that his mother speaks even less than he does –I believe I was 15 before I even knew what her first name was—and you kind of get how odd it is when a 70 something year old lady starts making fun of me while I am holding the door open for her. I swear in the last couple of weeks that woman has busted on me more successfully than people I have known for years ever have. People normally ask me why I am so sarcastic about everything, clearly it is genetic.
So the other day when I was putting away her groceries that we had recently gotten she told me to put a couple to the side. I didn’t really argue with this; because this is Nana and for there is a reason for everything and she normally explains it, arguing with her just makes you feel dumb after. The entire time she said nothing about the groceries that I was setting aside, and simply said she would explain later. We even ended up having a full conversation after the groceries where away about what Veronica and I did over the weekend before she answered my question on who they were for.
“Those are for this young man I know. Daniel… Gillman his name is.”
She was smiling while I said it, and I would have hugged her if I didn’t have this weird cold thing that doesn’t seem to go away. It turns out that after all these years I know exactly how much my Nana loves me, two bacon wrapped steaks and two packs of butter much. That might not sound like a lot to anyone else out there, but it really does mean the world to me.