“Ever wonder what grandpa’d be like now?”
“He was strong, but in a way that made you feel safe.” She blinked away some tears. “Perhaps a politician, or businessman. I can see that. But definitely a wonderful grandfather.“ She smiled. “He would have loved you, you know. Taken you fishing, taught you to shoot.”
A photo of his grandpa hung on the wall in her house, black and white, taken with him in his uniform before he left for the war. Gabriel looked at it every time he visited her and tried to imagine what they would talk about if he were still alive.
“But weren’t you angry? Because it’s so unfair?”
She nodded. “And other things too. I felt as if my breath had been stolen from my body and the world drained of color.” She leaned forward and retrieved the flask of tea she always carried with her. Gabriel found her a cup and held it as she poured. “I suppose all young people say that at some time.”
She sipped her tea and gazed past him, hanging onto the cup as though afraid of losing it. “My grandmother once told me something that always stuck.” Her hand trembled a little. “The only way to cheat death is to refuse to be broken by the loss of those you love.”
He thought for a while, teasing out the lesson. The smell of cloves filled the room. “So, you think Mom’ll be OK?”
“Your mother is stronger than she knows. I see her strength in you.”
He either missed the compliment or ignored it, instead picking at a fingernail. Eventually, he said, “Do you believe in God?”
His grandmother smiled patiently. “I didn’t used to, particularly after Jack was killed. I suppose we all find our way there somehow, in our own time.”
“I don’t. If there was a God, why would He let there be a war that killed Grandpa?”
She nodded, conceding a point scored for his side. “You’re not the first to think that way, nor the last.”
“The bit I really can’t figure out is, how you can be, and then just not be,” he said. “This book I read at school said scientists think people who’ve had their head chopped off are still alive for a while after.” She pulled a face of horror. “I wonder if you could ask them what it felt like? Dying.”
Loved it!
Mark braidwood is my uncle. I love this short story. The small details that add to create a better image of what hospitals are like. Especially the description of, “how the polyester curtains tried to keep the sunlight out”.
I adored that as readers we could see the depths of ones conversation between a grandmother and her grandson . How their conversation jumped from one topic to the next. Starting with Gabriel the young grandson, asking Eunice his grandmother, what she thought about death. Then finishing with how dearly she missed Jack, her late husband who had died in the war. This then lead to whether or not the pair believed in God. Gabriel started an amazing offer of if God exists, then why did he create a war in which his grandfather died fighting. Overall I really enjoyed Mark Braidwood’s short story.