“Dreams are real as long as they last.
Can we say more of life?”
-Havelock Ellis
“Grandpa!!”
Oskar jumped slightly as he was startled by the sudden yell of children. He had been staring out the window contemplating the winter. So barren and lifeless made so beautiful just by sprinkling a little bit of white powder around. He loved winter. Though the reason for this seasonal love he couldn’t remember….
He quickly turned his head to see two children running toward him, both of whom had faces radiating huge smiles. He also saw a man who appeared to be a in his late thirties standing in the doorway behind them holding a familiar looking box.
Davin. Cristina.
Anton.
The two children eagerly hugged Oskar as he smiled at their vice like grip which formed around his body. Today was a good day for him--he remembered.
Memory had become a fleeting and wavering gift for Oskar. But, today he remembered. He remembered his grandchildren. And his son.
“Hi dad!” Anton said happily as he walked into the room.
Always so….sad. Nothing to make this room his.
Anton wasn’t particularly fond of his father’s room at the retirement home. It looked the same as all the others. White walls, with an old stereotypical landscape painting on the wall. It wasn’t his father’s room.
It was his cell.
Not to mention the smell. Stench.
Anton hated it. It wasn’t his father’s smell. It was the smell of the home. Old people and sterilizing fluids.
The stench of Death.
He didn’t like his father being so close to Death. Not just in the sense that he was old and……
He just didn’t like him living in its stench.
Surrounded by its smell. Its essence.
It made him feel like it was surrounding everything in the home. Death.
Anton wished he had the space and could afford to have his father live with him. Not have him trapped in this place.
He could tell by the smile on his fathers face that today was one of his good days. He felt happy that he had chose to come today.
Ever since his father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s things had gotten tougher on everybody. Especially Anton. He remembered when he first heard the words out of the doctors mouth. “So what?” he had thought. He’ll forget a birthday or two and not remember where he put his keys. If only it had been that simple.
Nothing was simple.
Anton struggled with his father not always remembering him. Or his grandchildren.
The time before last that Anton had come had been especially difficult. His father had remembered his name but…..
Not who I was. Am. Still am.
Anton pushed the thought away.
He remembers now. He remembers the kids. And me. Now. What else can I ask for?
Oskar eyed the box Anton was carrying as he laid it down on his bed. It seemed so….familiar. Recognizable.
“How are you, dad?”
“Good, good…..Today is good.”
Anton knew his father meant “Good” the same way he did. He always found it odd how his father, on his “Good” days, could sometimes remember that he, in fact, tended not to remember.
As he sat down on the bed across from his father’s rocking chair, Anton took in his dad. He had on his favorite long sleeve shirt, an old blue button up. Although now a days a rather faded blue. His father was also wearing the new slacks he had brought him on his last visit. They were nice he thought, especially considering most of his fathers clothing was quite old and worn.
Oskar stared back at his son happily while he reviewed him in the same manner. Anton was wearing his khaki slacks that were somewhat frayed at the bottom, which to Anton just represented how much he really liked that pair of pants. As Oskar’s eyes wondered up he saw his son was wearing a white t-shirt with a khaki button up, of course to match the pants. His son always had to make sure his clothes didn’t just match but were in fact, an outfit.
Oskar’s smile widened as he remembered his son had “style.”
Oskar had always found it somewhat ridiculous that his son insisted upon his need for “style” so dearly.
But always down to Earth,
he thought to himself. What could he say? The boy had “style” and looks, but still had a brain in his head.
The best of both worlds
Oskar shook his head knowingly as his eyes met his sons. His mind went back to a mirror in his younger days. How long ago did he look like Anton….30? 40 years ago? Didn’t matter.
Me. Just like me.
Anton had in fact always been told he looked like his father. He didn’t deny it either. He had seen old pictures of his dad when he was young, and the average person could easily have thought it was Anton in the pictures. He had the same blue eyes, blonde hair, even the same smile.
The thought always made Anton happy. He loved his dad and didn’t mind looking like him. And they had always had good times together. Anton used to joke with his father….before the “disease”…
monster….
Had started to take his mind away, telling him, “You know dad…..were one damn good lookin’ guy back in your younger days.”
He missed those times.
Oskar was looking at his grandchildren who were still holding him. He couldn’t actually remember how old they were but from the looks of ‘em…..Gavin must be what? 7? 8? And Cristina…12. Yes, 12.
Anton turned his head slightly to the side as he watched his father gently nod his head as if agreeing with something someone said.
Oskar loved his grandchildren. At least when he remembered well enough.
So beautiful.
Oskar was looking at Gavin. Boy looked an awful lot like his father.
Me.
The biggest difference between them was that Gavin had dark curly hair that came half way down his ears and had darker eyes.
From his mother. Jennifer. That’s her name.
And Cristina. Cristina took mostly from her mother. From Jennifer.
She had long flowing black hair which was about as curly as Gavin’s. What she did get from her father though, were her eyes. They always appeared so full of life. They had a beautiful bluish-gray color that always impressed people. Not to mention her delicate features which always tended to bring out her eyes even more. She was also quite a fair skinned child though, despite spending plenty of time in the sun.
Something seemed strange to Oskar about Cristina though. She seemed so familiar. Not as his grandchild, but someone else. Someone….
Ancient.
Someone he knew well before she was born. Someone he knew even before Anton was born. Someone he once….. The answer seemed to be right on the edge of falling back into his memory, it just needed a push.
No push came.
Anton watched his father inspect Gavin with a smile on his face.
I picked the right day.
Slowly, his father turned his head to Cristina. He stared intensely at her for a few moments, then furrowed his brow and pursed his lips as if trying to will forth something in his memory.
Anton spoke up,
“The kids really wanted to see you when I came today. They said they missed you too much not to come.”
Oskar let out a little chuckle and said, “I missed you guys too. More than you know.”
He took his turn at embracing his grandchildren.
“I love you, grandpa!” Gavin and Cristina responded, almost in unison.
Oskar smiled.
******
After about twenty minutes of talking to his son and grandchildren, Anton got a call.
“Hey.”
“Yeah….OK….I’ll send them now.” He told Jennifer bye before hanging up.
“OK guys, mom’s here, say bye to grandpa and go head to the parking lot, apparently you’re already late for the birthday party.”
Both the kids ran up to Oskar and once again trapped his old body in their vice grip of a hug.
“We love you, grandpa!”
“I love you guys even more though.”
“Can we come with papa next time he comes to visit?” Cristina asked as she pulled away from their hug.
“Of course. How could I refuse?!” Oskar said jokingly, as he looked at the two of them.
“Alright see you next time grandpa. Bye, papa!”
Oskar watched the two of them run out of the room excitedly. A birthday party.
*****
“So, dad, I brought this with me…” Anton said as he lifted up the box he had found last night.
He had been sorting out some of his dad’s old belongings when he came across the box. Anton had never seen it before, but something about it told him it was important. He had put it to the side while he finished sorting through the rest of the storage unit they had put his father’s old stuff in when they had moved him into the home.
Once Anton had gotten home that night he decided to take a look in the box. He closed it just as fast as he opened it.
When he lifted the lid he immediately recognized some old pieces of cardboard with writing on them. They stuck out so strongly in his mind. It took him back to his childhood. He had seen his father looking at them only a couple of times, but that wasn’t what stuck out, it was the way he looked at them. So…. intensely. Sadly. Happily. And privately.
Anton had never asked his father about them. In those few times he had seen his father looking at them, he could tell they were too special. Not special like a book or movie one really likes or song you try to have all your friends listen to. No, this was different. A unique sort of special. Something you don’t share out of fear of diminishing its beauty, its secrets, its meaning.
There was also an envelope he had never seen, but he put the lid back on the box before he could see anymore. He didn’t want to break the special bond his father obviously had with these items by snooping through them. If he wanted to tell him about them, great, but it was not Anton’s decision to make.
Anton and Oskar sat across from each other at the tiny table Oskar had in his room. Oskar was staring at the box as Anton placed it on the table and slid it towards his father.
It seems so ….important.
It has something to do with me.
Anton smiled as his dad pulled off the lid and looked in the box. He seemed to be struggling to remember something about it.
I hope it cheers him up. Maybe it will bring back some good memories for him. Maybe it’ll…..keep his mind with him. At least a little longer.
Oskar picked up one of the pieces of cardboard and read it silently to himself:
To flee is life,
To linger, death.
Your Eli
********
Fuck
Anton watched confused as his father’s free hand made a fist as he slowly pressed it to his forehead while clenching his teeth. Tears started to slowly trickle out from the wrinkled corners of his tightly closed eyes and down his face.
I brought the box to make him happy not fuckin’ cry! Idiot!
So much for brightening up his day, jackass.
“Dad….I….I’m sorry. I… I thought it was something good. I didn’t mean to upset you…..I’m sorry.”
Oskar was lost in his own mind.
Eli.
Never again, Eli. I won’t forget you.
Eli.
Oskar was caught in raging storm of emotion and memory he had never before experienced. Happiness, sadness, anger, dejection, desperation, loneliness, supreme emptiness and yet the ultimate fulfillment.
God, please…..no more
No more forgetting….No more.
I want to die knowing them.
I don’t want them all to fade away….again.
“I’m sorry, dad.”
Oskar slowly looked up at Anton. Anton had never had his father look at him like this before. His eyes seemed so ……distant? Close? Lost? He seemed to be looking at into his core and shaking him at his very foundation.
“Th….this…..Thank you.”
Anton was taken back.
Thank you?
Suddenly Anton realized he had only seen his father cry three times before.
******
He remembered sitting watching cartoons in the living room, when the phone rang. He must’ve only been six or seven at the time. He heard his fathers muffled voice in the kitchen as he talked, then a slam. He had ran into the kitchen, thinking that his father had hurt himself, when he turned the corner and saw his father sobbing. He was sitting on the tile floor with his back against the wall and his head in his arms. The phone lay shattered a couple of feet away.
It was the hospital telling him Anton’s mother had died.
Anton could remember the funeral. Sort of. All that he could really summon forth from memory was when the casket was lowered into the Earth, and his father. Crying.
The only other time Anton had ever seen Oskar cry was when he was eleven. He had wanted to ask his dad to sign a permission slip for a field trip at school.
The Natural History Museum. Or was it the Art Museum?
He remembered walking down the hall towards his fathers room when he heard something coming from the other side of Oskar’s bedroom door.
Is he….crying?
He tip-toed up to the door and slowly cracked it open. He saw his father sitting on the edge of the bed, the box laying open by his side. He was holding one of the pieces of cardboard in his hands. He realized he should leave.
Anton watched a tear fall.
*******
The items in this box were obviously more important than Anton had thought.
“What….What are they, dad?”
Oskar look back down at the cardboard note as he ran his finger over the words,
Your Eli
He couldn’t hold back the lump in his throat anymore. He let out a couple gasping breaths before releasing his emotions.
“It’s OK, dad. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I….just thought you might want this stuff.”
“I do, I do son. Lis….Listen. I want you to hear this. I’m old now. Someone besides me should know about Eli….. before I go.”
“Eli?” Anton had never heard about this Eli. He also didn’t like to hear his father mention his own death. He took in a breath and slowly nodded his head as he directed his full attention to what he was about to be told.
Oskar reached back into the box and pulled out the envelope. He opened it up and took out the series of photos he had taken with Eli in a photo booth many, many years ago now. A lifetime.
“My God…” he said softly as his body began to lightly convulse from the tears.
So beautiful.
“This…This person here, son.” He spoke softly in between his gasps of breath,
“This person….Eli. She….did so much for me.”
Anton didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded.
Oskar handed him the photos.
Wow….I’ve never seen a picture of him this young.
Anton in fact had never even heard about his fathers childhood.
And….Cristina?
He was amazed that the girl in the photo looked so much like Cristina. Almost a split image.
….Eli. She’s….beautiful.
Oskar took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
He told Anton everything.
*******
Anton had just gotten onto the highway heading home. He had never heard anything…..So….So amazing.
His father had told him about when he met Eli. When he asked her to go steady. Anton smiled. His father had smiled too when he told him that part. And laughed. And cried.
Oskar had even told Anton about the pool. And about their travels. Then when they had gone their separate ways.
Anton was trying to hold back his tears. He didn’t want his wife or kids to see he had been crying.
He hit the steering wheel with a tight fist and cursed.
Damn it!!
He had never known his father had been through so much. It made him furious, and also feel so empty to think about the pain his father had been through. His father deserved more happiness than life had given him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair he couldn’t stay with Eli. It wasn’t fair he couldn’t see her now.
Even though Anton didn’t like to think about it, he knew his father was old. He would die soon.
Why can’t he see her just one more time?
He hit the steering wheel again, wishing he could somehow change things. Somehow do something….Something for his father to let him see this person just one last time.
Eli
Anton pulled into his driveway. As he parked the car the tears came forth. Tears for his father. For Eli. For himself.
Why?
He sat outside his house for over an hour.