Coming of age in the Pink Palace
When I was in my late teens, my grandfather died. I was never terribly close with him. I remember we played hide and seek when I was a kid. I remember Iused to fit beneath the coffee tables in my grandparents’ apartment. The tables were covered to the floor in long, cream-colored table cloths which left no trace of my secret presence beneath them. When he died, I thought a lot about those games of hide and seek.
We drove up to the bay area for his funeral. He was being buried in my grandmother’s “Pink Palace” — the name she had given to a freezing, pink-marbled mausoleum in which she had purchased two spaces, one for his coffin and one for hers. We sat in the front row of the service, in the reception room of the Pink Palace. And when my mom began to cry, she literally wailed. She shook uncontrollably and bellowed horrible, sad cries. I sat by her side, arm around her back, waiting for calm.
She was presented with an American flag, for her father’s service in the army. She kept the flag on her dresser for some time. I remember noticing it whenever I visited. And years later, when her mother, my grandmother died, my mom packed the flag in her suitcase for a trip back to the Bay Area. She no longer wanted the flag, no longer needed the memory of her father so present in her life — she gave it to her brother.
When her eyes tear, she reminds me of him, of my grandfather. He cried easily. I never knew if it was his age, the dementia, or his endearing humanity. Today, when my mother’s eyes tear, I see him. And sometimes, it’s like I’m back at the funeral, sitting by her side, holding her hand. While she cries.
4 responses so far
I was just thinking of writing about my grandfather….
s — we are waiting!
Hey, this entry was very well written. More please! Your audience demands it!
This was beautiful and so well written. I, too, want to write of a few passed relatives who were very close to me since my “Blah” (what I call my blog) is also meant to be passed down to my children when I am gone to show them the “real Mom” behind the Momness. I’m always so scared I won’t do them justice, though. I feel you did here.
…WhenSheWorePonytailss latest post…Flee. There is sadness and whine.