He
was a giant of a man with the most penetrating eyes I ever saw. His look seemed
to say “I know what you are on about.” His eyes didn’t daunt me, afterall I
spent short spans of time with him and this meant he did not get to see through
me. This of course I began to think about when I was of age…before he would
just be my grandfather, old, towering over everyone, the occasional endearment
of calling me ‘my wife’ and seeming to dot on me amongst my siblings, letting
me play with his walking stick and generally enjoying the camaraderie when he occasionally came to visit.
When
I went to visit him and my grandmother and was not too grown up to mind his
company he would walk me down to the village shopping centre. We usually made
our first stop at a tea place (it didn’t matter that we had already enjoyed
very rich tea from my grandmother’s kettle). We took some more, and in glasses
(why did they serve tea in glasses, something I always wondered but never
verbalized). Of course I didn’t care for tea, that was a grown up drink, I
thought. I sat there, mesmerized by the very different and interesting
characteristics of my grandfather’s village mates. Their tone of speech, their
friendly and very elaborate handshakes, their continued gazing at me (they had
never seen a skinnier lass), that’s what I thought since my grandfather
constantly admonished me for ‘not eating.’ He would prod me to finish my tea…I
took a sip.
Our
next stop would be another food place – to fatten the skinny girl. I would sit
and wait, wondering, asking him all sorts of odd questions that were sometimes
brushed off with a chuckle. Sometimes he would just look at me intently, like
he was studying me. He was a thinking man I guess, so this was not strange to
me. Next thing I knew there was a mound of roasted meat on our table and the
prodding to eat began yet again. I would
get tired after a few bites and he would start with the admonishing “eat or you
shall forever remain skinny, do you eat?”….I tried to pick a few more pieces,
the admonitions going on, I ignored them. He carried on without me. I was awed
by his insatiable appetite for meat. He loved it so much that if in his next
life he comes back as a lion it wouldn’t be a misplaced reincarnation. I watched
as he wiped the surface clean of any hint of meat.
My
very odd memories of my grandfather, he has checked out at an advanced age of
90-something years of age (he wasn’t sure either). Memories are varied….different,
fond, not too fond, but this are the best I remember him by. I guess it’s
because I was still innocent, wide eyed to the world…other memories may be
muddied with maturity and knowledge and therefore not as beautiful. We remember
people with the beautiful memories, the smiling memories, the walking down the
spidery village road to the meat place….best memories.
Very moving!
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