Alone, But Never To Be Forgotten

 
searching in the past.

Grappling, groping never last.

In my body, in my heart, and in my mind.

But, not on my tongue

and so my song remains unsung."

                                                                                                          ~Keanu Reeves

                                                  "Now cracks a noble heart.

Good night, sweet prince;

And flights of angels

sing thee to thy rest!"

                                                                       ~William Shakespeare's Hamlet

Thoughts are momentarily with my Grandfather, I cannot explain nor put into words the very way I'm being affected by them right now. It is not as though his essence is ever very far from my spirit. Regardless of that though, just moments ago I was struck as though by lightening with a deep sorrow and sense of loss. Was it the hot cup of tea I drank this morning, as opposed to my usual coffee that elicited such feelings? Does this date bare significance that I cannot recall? Has something happened that I am unaware of that will sorrow me greatly in which he's here to aid in my comfort? Is there a reason for him to have reached a little further into my soul than usual? Time will tell as it always does. Few tears were shed but enough to warrant the use of tissues and the aftermath of slightly puffed eyes. My eyes look greener after I cry, more like the Isle of Ireland, his hearts fondness. I will travel there someday, stomp the grounds for him, and revel as he would have, if he'd only had the chance.

I was there the night that he last chewed a piece of gum and blew bubbles ridiculously with it (the night before his stroke, it was Halloween, and there was merriment all about) He was my father as I have never met my own. He taught me everything and then so very much more. He bought me Sprite and popsicles when I was sick. He took me along for the ride to the grocery store, business sites, to golden trips in California. My first television was a gift from him, a little black & white model, to set in my bedroom. I had the pleasure of living with my Grandfather most of my life, of hearing him walk down the hall, or sing whilst cooking. I remember his whistle, the roughness against my cheek from his five o'clock shadow, the smell of his skin. A divine mixture of Ivory soap, Mennen Speedstick, and Camel non-filter cigarettes. He was generous, insightful, and is never ending to me still. I watched the movie 'Titanic' the day after his death in a theater that reeked of history, his history, it would be demolished after the movies run, down with the ship. This was ever so significant to me at the time. I left a seat empty in the theater for his spirit to rest in, as I knew he would've enjoyed that movie, the making of it, the history involved, the rich detail. For the story of 'Titanic' was one of many he shared with me always. His ticket now resides perfectly intact in an old daily planner of mine. Close to that resides a little cut-out picture of him from his bank card. I wear his warm winters coat as my own on many a cold winters day. Mementos lay all around.........

The quotes displayed above were the very first thoughts, the very first words that ran through my mind with any sort of clarity upon finding out about his in many ways fortunate demise. I said them quietly out loud to myself over and over again during that time. I wrote them through heartache in a journal on that very day, slowly allowing the healing to begin. The first quote is from my Grandfather's perspective I imagine as he had suffered a stroke one year prior to his death. It left him unable to articulate in any way other than eye contact. He had a fascination with language, word usage, vocabulary. He was left unable to read, write or speak. A very cruel twist of fate was served before him and he endured it for far too long. Thank you Mr. Reeves for your bits of doggerel. The second quote is from my point of view, and what better solace than William Shakespeare? I also must note The Verve for their song 'Bitter Sweet Symphony'as it offered me much introspective solitude with equal measures of euphoric expressiveness. I have put these quotes and these bits of thought here as I don't know what else to do with them, and I feel an unyielding need for them to be expressed. For him to momentarily live on in this context. And so be it.........

                                                           John M. "Jack" Voita Sr.

                                             October 19th, 1919 - January 2nd, 1998 

Good Day and Good Morrow

(This was written in 2002 and displayed on an on-line blog I had at the time. It is still very relevant to me though so, I wanted to share it with the lovely community of Gather as well.)