Always Remember [Short Story]

Mandi · 04-08-2008

Always Remember.

I walked down the clean, white hallway. The hallway I’ve become so familiar with over the past months. I heard beeps from other rooms, I saw tears, I felt the cool air rush past me, and I felt the emptiness engulf me. A few more strides and I was at his room, again. He’s been in and out, he even got much better, but all things come to an end, he’s seemed to have crashed, again. They told me it’d take a miracle this time, and tonight would be the night that decided his fate.

I walked in and sat in the chair next to his bed. I scooted closer to him, as to put my hand in his, and lay my head on his chest. I heard the thump-thump of his feeble heart, I felt his shallow breaths on my neck, I smelt the crisp sheets, that smelt so much like cleanliness. They didn’t smell used, they didn’t smell like they were slept under. They smelt like they were there for show, and nothing more. Like this whole room, and everything in it was for show. The metal was shining, the floors were white, the bed was such a clean beige that it was impossible to tell the age of it. Was it one, two, three years old? It didn’t matter either way, I was here for him, and nothing more.

I watched the clock for hours. The hands ticked, one, two, three, four, I counted. I watched the minute hand go around, and gradually the hour hand followed. It was almost midnight, 12 minutes to go. I’ve watched the doctors come in and out, they told me it was getting late, they told me there wasn’t much hope. But soon - soon it would be my birthday. I’d be with him on my special day. I could be doing so many things right now, but I wanted nothing more but to keep my head rested on him. The clock finally struck midnight, and the hands continued moving. I don’t know what I was expecting, but nothing changed. I had hoped, hoped for a miracle.

“Bummer,” he said. I lifted my head softly and looked at him. His eyes were barely open, his breathing was still shallow, his voice raspy and low. “Happy birthday,” he said, a smile flickered on his tired face.

A tear escaped from the corner of my eye. It was alright, it’s exactly what I expected, what I hoped for, and what had happened. He’s going to be alright, I thought to myself. I heard him take a deep breath, I watched his mouth open, but no words came out. He closed it again and pulled me into a soft hug. I embraced him - grateful that he was able to hug back. His mouth opened again, this time his voice a bit stronger, and a little clearer.

“Eighteen years ago you were born.” he said to me, I began to talk, to let him know that I was aware of that fact, but he gave me a look, and I knew I was supposed to listen. I squirmed in the chair until I was comfortable again, and I sat back, ready to listen to what he had to say.

“You were such a beautiful baby. Your rosy cheeks, your wisps of blonde hair, the big, big, blue eyes. You took right to me. I held you and you stopped crying instantly. I wasn’t sure of you, to be honest. I wasn’t much of a baby person. I was afraid I’d drop you, but I loved you instantly. I held you for hours, and you slept in my arms.

Your mom, she was so young. Gram and I knew from the beginning you’d be our special girl. We wanted a child of our own, a girl, but we weren’t able to do that. You came along, you helped our relationship, you brought light and laughter into our dull lives. You grew up such a timid little girl, but you were so loving, and you loved the attention we doted on you.

We used to share a bowl of ice cream every night, do you remember that, Bummer? Each time I took a bite, you had one as well. You would sit on my lap, and you’d lick the ice cream right off the spoon, I think more ended up on your face than it did in your tummy. It was so cute. After that, you’d go to bed. Gram would give you a bath, and you’d get your jammies on.

Before you went to bed you’d always run out to the living room. Your bare feet would hit the wooden floors as you ran over to me. ‘Night bummer, don’t let the bed bugs bite.’ I’d say to you, and you’d always respond with, ‘Night, don’t fall apart before you make my breakfast!’ We’d give Eskimo kisses, and you’d give me a great big hug. Then you ran back to bed for the night.

As you grew older, routines changed. By the time you were 4 you were little miss independent. I remember your birthday vividly. I don’t remember what I got you, but you said to me, “Thanks, dad.” I didn’t know what to say to that. It baffled me for quite a few minutes, and broke my heart to explain to you that I wasn’t your father. You were here so much, and I knew you were missing out at home, it was hard for me to realize that as much as I wanted to be, I wasn’t your father, and never would be.

It was a couple weeks after that I took you hunting. You felt so bad for the bunnies, but adored the rabbit skin your Uncle gave you. You were such an unique child. You had to go to the bathroom, I told you to go in the bushes and you refused. In your words, it wasn’t ‘lady like,’ so you refused. I was surprised that over an hour later you still didn’t go in the bushes. On the way home though, you had an accident. You looked devastated. I tried to make light of it, told you everyone did it, but you were still so ashamed. I decided to make a game out of it. Told you that I wouldn’t look while you ran in the house and changed. Told you that if you could do it in under 5 minutes then it would disappear, and it would be like it didn’t happen. You took your rabbit fur, and as soon as I pulled up in the driveway you ran into the house to change. It took you about 2 minutes to get changed, you had a big grin on your face and told me now everyone would forget, I looked at you and said ‘Forget what?’ while looking all confused. You were overjoyed, and started dancing around the kitchen.

You loved to dance. We got you as many sparkly outfits as your little room would hold. Shoes, wands, tutus, dresses, tiaras, leotards, everything. You’d try to wear them to school, and used to get quite upset when we wouldn’t let you. I made you a bar in your room that you could use for stretching and practicing your ballet moves, you would play on it all day.

As you got older, yet again your interests changed. You became too old for your ballet outfits, and you were too old to cuddle anymore. Around 8 all you wanted to do was draw. You were our little artist, always colouring pictures, drawing things for the fridge. I can’t even begin to remember how many colouring books and boxes of crayons and coloured pencils you went through.

The years passed and you stopped coming to the house, weekends were rare, and you began to change. You slowly lost the light in your eyes, you were so much more… grown up. If we asked you to play with the other kids, you were a caregiver to them, if we asked if you wanted to make cookies, you were more worried about the dishes it’d produce. I was worried, for years I was worried about you. We lost our little girl, she was replaced with an adult in a childs body. You didn’t play, you didn’t have fun. You were an academic star, a housekeeper, and a nanny, only worried about pleasing others.

The other grandkids were getting older as well. However it seemed to be you that I worried about. The others were fine, you, you weren’t. Gradually you stopped sharing things, even with your grandmother. You shut yourself into your own world. I didn’t see you at the house at all anymore, because you didn’t want to come. The only time I saw you was on the rare occasion your gram brought you by. Your gram and I, I’m sure you know by now we’ve had our problems. A few years back I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. I had to continue to put up with her, I had to for years, she was the only link I had to you, Bummer. When she left, I was devastated, because that was 2 years, 2 whole years you didn’t even stop by. I was a bitter old man.

Then I got sick. You heard I had a stroke, and you came, you sat by my side, you made sure I was comfortable. Oh how odd it is to see how much you changed. The little girl I once took care of was grown up, you made sure the doctors knew what I needed, you made sure the nurses did their jobs efficiently, you made sure my room mate was quiet when I slept. You held my hand through everything, just as I did when you were little.

You are so many things, and now you’re an adult. But just know, that you will always be my little dancer princess, with a paint brush for a wand. You’ve painted a lot of peoples world with colour, and you’ve cast your light on so many lives. You’re the first person I said ‘I love you,’ to, and you’ll be the last.”

“I love you too, Papa.” I said to him, my face soaked with tears, my heart heavy in my chest, my hands shaking.

“Always remember that, Bummer.” He reached his hand up feebly, and ruffled my hair.

With that, he closed his eyes gently and fell asleep. I rested my head, yet again, on his chest and fell asleep as well, waiting for the doctors to come in. Everything was going to be okay, it was okay, I was okay.

Cubby · 04-08-2008

awwwwwwwwwww rawr this is so...so.... cute
like always well done

Mandi · 04-08-2008

Thanks Mandy *hugs*

James · 04-08-2008

Aww! Nice story, mandi!

Todd · 05-08-2008

Mandi, reading this brought tears to my eyes. I hope and pray that all is well with Papa.

I know how much you truly care for him.

Rance · 05-08-2008

Mandi,

It's always so much easier to tell when a story has been written from someone's heart -- if your heartstrings could hold a pen, this is what they would have no doubt written! This is such a beautiful, simple little tale, but it really touched me deeply, and I've never had the chance to know a grandfather to get that close to before.

Keep your hopes for the best and your memories in the happiest of places! Thank you for this glimpse into your heart, Mandi!

Allanon · 05-08-2008

Brought tears to my eyes, thank you

.

Mandi · 05-08-2008

Thanks everyone for the kind words. This story is definitely one that I didn't pay attention to spelling and grammar and stuff on.

My grampa (papa) had a heart attack last night, I found out today. He's been pretty sick lately, went through a stroke and everything. But he's gotten better. It's just, when I hear bad things my mind always seems to race, I think of the most terrible things.... and while I'm usually a positive person I just can't be when it comes to people, I dunno why. I figured maybe if I wrote something, instead of just bitching to people I'd feel better.

Error404 · 05-08-2008

Beautiful, angel, just beautiful. You're such an excellent writer. ^_^

Mandi · 05-08-2008

Thanks E404!

04-08-2008	#1 (permalink)
Mandi Step 1 + Step 2 = Historical Donor Staff Member Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Windsor, ON, CA Age: 18 Posts: 2,096 Threads: 86 Gallery Uploads: 35 Wiki Edits: 124 Blog Entries: 11	Always Remember [Short Story] Always Remember. I walked down the clean, white hallway. The hallway I’ve become so familiar with over the past months. I heard beeps from other rooms, I saw tears, I felt the cool air rush past me, and I felt the emptiness engulf me. A few more strides and I was at his room, again. He’s been in and out, he even got much better, but all things come to an end, he’s seemed to have crashed, again. They told me it’d take a miracle this time, and tonight would be the night that decided his fate. I walked in and sat in the chair next to his bed. I scooted closer to him, as to put my hand in his, and lay my head on his chest. I heard the thump-thump of his feeble heart, I felt his shallow breaths on my neck, I smelt the crisp sheets, that smelt so much like cleanliness. They didn’t smell used, they didn’t smell like they were slept under. They smelt like they were there for show, and nothing more. Like this whole room, and everything in it was for show. The metal was shining, the floors were white, the bed was such a clean beige that it was impossible to tell the age of it. Was it one, two, three years old? It didn’t matter either way, I was here for him, and nothing more. I watched the clock for hours. The hands ticked, one, two, three, four, I counted. I watched the minute hand go around, and gradually the hour hand followed. It was almost midnight, 12 minutes to go. I’ve watched the doctors come in and out, they told me it was getting late, they told me there wasn’t much hope. But soon - soon it would be my birthday. I’d be with him on my special day. I could be doing so many things right now, but I wanted nothing more but to keep my head rested on him. The clock finally struck midnight, and the hands continued moving. I don’t know what I was expecting, but nothing changed. I had hoped, hoped for a miracle. “Bummer,” he said. I lifted my head softly and looked at him. His eyes were barely open, his breathing was still shallow, his voice raspy and low. “Happy birthday,” he said, a smile flickered on his tired face. A tear escaped from the corner of my eye. It was alright, it’s exactly what I expected, what I hoped for, and what had happened. He’s going to be alright, I thought to myself. I heard him take a deep breath, I watched his mouth open, but no words came out. He closed it again and pulled me into a soft hug. I embraced him - grateful that he was able to hug back. His mouth opened again, this time his voice a bit stronger, and a little clearer. “Eighteen years ago you were born.” he said to me, I began to talk, to let him know that I was aware of that fact, but he gave me a look, and I knew I was supposed to listen. I squirmed in the chair until I was comfortable again, and I sat back, ready to listen to what he had to say. “You were such a beautiful baby. Your rosy cheeks, your wisps of blonde hair, the big, big, blue eyes. You took right to me. I held you and you stopped crying instantly. I wasn’t sure of you, to be honest. I wasn’t much of a baby person. I was afraid I’d drop you, but I loved you instantly. I held you for hours, and you slept in my arms. Your mom, she was so young. Gram and I knew from the beginning you’d be our special girl. We wanted a child of our own, a girl, but we weren’t able to do that. You came along, you helped our relationship, you brought light and laughter into our dull lives. You grew up such a timid little girl, but you were so loving, and you loved the attention we doted on you. We used to share a bowl of ice cream every night, do you remember that, Bummer? Each time I took a bite, you had one as well. You would sit on my lap, and you’d lick the ice cream right off the spoon, I think more ended up on your face than it did in your tummy. It was so cute. After that, you’d go to bed. Gram would give you a bath, and you’d get your jammies on. Before you went to bed you’d always run out to the living room. Your bare feet would hit the wooden floors as you ran over to me. ‘Night bummer, don’t let the bed bugs bite.’ I’d say to you, and you’d always respond with, ‘Night, don’t fall apart before you make my breakfast!’ We’d give Eskimo kisses, and you’d give me a great big hug. Then you ran back to bed for the night. As you grew older, routines changed. By the time you were 4 you were little miss independent. I remember your birthday vividly. I don’t remember what I got you, but you said to me, “Thanks, dad.” I didn’t know what to say to that. It baffled me for quite a few minutes, and broke my heart to explain to you that I wasn’t your father. You were here so much, and I knew you were missing out at home, it was hard for me to realize that as much as I wanted to be, I wasn’t your father, and never would be. It was a couple weeks after that I took you hunting. You felt so bad for the bunnies, but adored the rabbit skin your Uncle gave you. You were such an unique child. You had to go to the bathroom, I told you to go in the bushes and you refused. In your words, it wasn’t ‘lady like,’ so you refused. I was surprised that over an hour later you still didn’t go in the bushes. On the way home though, you had an accident. You looked devastated. I tried to make light of it, told you everyone did it, but you were still so ashamed. I decided to make a game out of it. Told you that I wouldn’t look while you ran in the house and changed. Told you that if you could do it in under 5 minutes then it would disappear, and it would be like it didn’t happen. You took your rabbit fur, and as soon as I pulled up in the driveway you ran into the house to change. It took you about 2 minutes to get changed, you had a big grin on your face and told me now everyone would forget, I looked at you and said ‘Forget what?’ while looking all confused. You were overjoyed, and started dancing around the kitchen. You loved to dance. We got you as many sparkly outfits as your little room would hold. Shoes, wands, tutus, dresses, tiaras, leotards, everything. You’d try to wear them to school, and used to get quite upset when we wouldn’t let you. I made you a bar in your room that you could use for stretching and practicing your ballet moves, you would play on it all day. As you got older, yet again your interests changed. You became too old for your ballet outfits, and you were too old to cuddle anymore. Around 8 all you wanted to do was draw. You were our little artist, always colouring pictures, drawing things for the fridge. I can’t even begin to remember how many colouring books and boxes of crayons and coloured pencils you went through. The years passed and you stopped coming to the house, weekends were rare, and you began to change. You slowly lost the light in your eyes, you were so much more… grown up. If we asked you to play with the other kids, you were a caregiver to them, if we asked if you wanted to make cookies, you were more worried about the dishes it’d produce. I was worried, for years I was worried about you. We lost our little girl, she was replaced with an adult in a childs body. You didn’t play, you didn’t have fun. You were an academic star, a housekeeper, and a nanny, only worried about pleasing others. The other grandkids were getting older as well. However it seemed to be you that I worried about. The others were fine, you, you weren’t. Gradually you stopped sharing things, even with your grandmother. You shut yourself into your own world. I didn’t see you at the house at all anymore, because you didn’t want to come. The only time I saw you was on the rare occasion your gram brought you by. Your gram and I, I’m sure you know by now we’ve had our problems. A few years back I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. I had to continue to put up with her, I had to for years, she was the only link I had to you, Bummer. When she left, I was devastated, because that was 2 years, 2 whole years you didn’t even stop by. I was a bitter old man. Then I got sick. You heard I had a stroke, and you came, you sat by my side, you made sure I was comfortable. Oh how odd it is to see how much you changed. The little girl I once took care of was grown up, you made sure the doctors knew what I needed, you made sure the nurses did their jobs efficiently, you made sure my room mate was quiet when I slept. You held my hand through everything, just as I did when you were little. You are so many things, and now you’re an adult. But just know, that you will always be my little dancer princess, with a paint brush for a wand. You’ve painted a lot of peoples world with colour, and you’ve cast your light on so many lives. You’re the first person I said ‘I love you,’ to, and you’ll be the last.” “I love you too, Papa.” I said to him, my face soaked with tears, my heart heavy in my chest, my hands shaking. “Always remember that, Bummer.” He reached his hand up feebly, and ruffled my hair. With that, he closed his eyes gently and fell asleep. I rested my head, yet again, on his chest and fell asleep as well, waiting for the doctors to come in. Everything was going to be okay, it was okay, I was okay.

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04-08-2008	#2 (permalink)
Cubby Lighting Designer Join Date: May 2008 Location: Texas, USA Age: 14 Posts: 609 Threads: 15 Gallery Uploads: 4 Blog Entries: 17	awwwwwwwwwww rawr this is so...so.... cute like always well done

04-08-2008	#3 (permalink)
Mandi Step 1 + Step 2 = Historical Donor Staff Member Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Windsor, ON, CA Age: 18 Posts: 2,096 Threads: 86 Gallery Uploads: 35 Wiki Edits: 124 Blog Entries: 11	Thanks Mandy hugs

04-08-2008	#4 (permalink)
James Regular Historical Donor Join Date: Feb 2008 Location: Mississippi Age: 15 Posts: 436 Threads: 27 Gallery Uploads: 4 Wiki Edits: 1	Aww! Nice story, mandi!

05-08-2008	#5 (permalink)
Todd Lurker Join Date: Feb 2008 Location: Denver Posts: 87 Threads: 1 Reputation: 7	Mandi, reading this brought tears to my eyes. I hope and pray that all is well with Papa. I know how much you truly care for him.

05-08-2008	#6 (permalink)
Rance VIP Historical Donor Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Maryland, USA Age: 25 Posts: 682 Threads: 20 Blog Entries: 8	Mandi, It's always so much easier to tell when a story has been written from someone's heart -- if your heartstrings could hold a pen, this is what they would have no doubt written! This is such a beautiful, simple little tale, but it really touched me deeply, and I've never had the chance to know a grandfather to get that close to before. Keep your hopes for the best and your memories in the happiest of places! Thank you for this glimpse into your heart, Mandi!

05-08-2008	#7 (permalink)
Allanon Lurker Join Date: Mar 2008 Location: Midwest, USA Age: 21 Posts: 184 Threads: 2 Wiki Edits: 1 Reputation: 8	Brought tears to my eyes, thank you .

05-08-2008	#8 (permalink)
Mandi Step 1 + Step 2 = Historical Donor Staff Member Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Windsor, ON, CA Age: 18 Posts: 2,096 Threads: 86 Gallery Uploads: 35 Wiki Edits: 124 Blog Entries: 11	Thanks everyone for the kind words. This story is definitely one that I didn't pay attention to spelling and grammar and stuff on. My grampa (papa) had a heart attack last night, I found out today. He's been pretty sick lately, went through a stroke and everything. But he's gotten better. It's just, when I hear bad things my mind always seems to race, I think of the most terrible things.... and while I'm usually a positive person I just can't be when it comes to people, I dunno why. I figured maybe if I wrote something, instead of just bitching to people I'd feel better.

05-08-2008	#9 (permalink)
Error404 Regular Join Date: May 2008 Location: England. Age: 19 Posts: 759 Threads: 33 Wiki Edits: 8	Beautiful, angel, just beautiful. You're such an excellent writer. ^_^

05-08-2008	#10 (permalink)
Mandi Step 1 + Step 2 = Historical Donor Staff Member Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Windsor, ON, CA Age: 18 Posts: 2,096 Threads: 86 Gallery Uploads: 35 Wiki Edits: 124 Blog Entries: 11	Thanks E404!