Lonely Hearts

Alone with my grandfather for the first time since my grandmother, his great love, slipped away, he was consumed with sadness. So worried about what he might do to himself in grief, we were on constant shifts of watchfulness--never leaving this independent, grown man to his own devices even for a moment. And I wondered why. Why couldn’t he choose for himself how he wanted to handle this new and savagely painful stage of his existence? As we sat, he looked up me with such misery and said, “I wouldn’t care if I went tomorrow. I wouldn’t.” And I understood. He’d done it all. In his ninety years, he got married, got recruited, went to war, went to work, had a family, had a mortgage, lived, aged, and, finally, mourned. His partner and companion of seventy-two years was gone, his children grown and grandparents themselves, his working life long since set aside. What was there to stay for? I knew he wouldn’t last long and I’d be back again soon to say my final goodbyes to him. Then I saw something amazing: video of my nonagenarian grandfather learning to play Wii boxing, and having a blast. Not that he wasn’t a fun guy, just that I thought he was done enjoying himself in this life. I was gladly mistaken. In Michael Rosen’s Sad Book, he mourns the loss of his son and his happiness, but celebrates the eventual return of joy. And it does show up in the darndest places.

P.S. Check out how cute they are in the Facebook video clip below.

http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Rosens-Boston-Globe-Horn-Honors/dp/0763625973

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Rosen

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=428841976072