Synchronicty- The final revelation from 20 years ago

Synchronicty:  A word coined by the 80’s band The police, taken to mean the interconnectedness of seemingly random events to a specific outcome. 

When I first started writing about the death of my grandfather and the events put into motion because of it, it was mainly to show the results of choices I made because of this loss, and their outcome.  It ultimately had what could be considered a good ending, but it wasn’t complete.  There was an important part missing that I will rectify now.  It is a tale of loss… but also much more.  It is a tribute to a truly great person.

First, a small recap:

·         In December of 1988, I did what I feel is the most horrible thing I could do to one I love when I rejected my grandfather who was dying of cancer.

·         In the first half of 1989, after he passed away, I made a choice in sadness that permanently changed the trajectory of my life completely.

·         In the latter half of 1989, I made another choice based on lust that set up friendships that continue to this day.

When Tony, Jason and I decided to go see the movie ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ I agreed to pick them up in front of the old Thriftway in West Seattle.  As I waited in the parking lot for them in my ginormous 1976 Chrysler New Yorker I drove back then, a reddish-brown 80’s sedan pulled up and Jay and tony hopped out.  Driving it was an old lady.  Her name was Alice and it was my first introduction to her.

She was small in stature, but enormous in presence.  Possessing a razor-sharp mind and wit, she could crack a joke, give you advice, or chastise you when the moment demanded it.  And was all of that desperately needed, for the entire lot of us were far from saints… particularly myself.

I don’t talk about the early 90’s much, except to the few who were there.  I was in the military, but that was the only real order I had in my life.  I was kind of in a freefall.  Like a battered wife, I tried to win my mother’s affections, in the process isolating my father and most of my family.  I had no goals, other than work enough to keep myself sheltered and oblivious on weekends.  Maybe I was living that time in denial of myself, subconsciously punishing myself for the things I would not deal with in my life.

During this time of chaos, Alice was an oasis.

Hungry?  She would cook up something for you.  Needed order?  She had PLENTY of work for you to help her with.  Needed a couple bucks?  She had PLENTY of work for you to help her with.  She took care of us all, telling us all to call her Grandma… a term I couldn’t bring myself to say for a long time, since I feel I hadn’t earned it.  Throughout that time, I would find myself going over to Tony’s place when he wasn’t around just to talk to her and help her out.  She used to send me to the old FFC to by myself a candy bar… and if I could pick up a Snickers bar for her, she wouldn’t object.  I’d go shopping for her; help her clean, do maintenance, anything to be helpful.  I realize now that she was that sense of stability and security I had been missing since my grandfather passed away.  Slowly, her care for me and all of us brought me past my potentially destructive ways.  I started calling her Gramma Alice and slowly pieced my life together into something meaningful.  My helping her out increased when Tony left for film school, making sure she was taken care of, and when he graduated, I rode up with her for the ceremony.  It was good times…

But eventually all things must end.

I honestly don’t remember when it started.  It may be me that I am too self-absorbed to have paid attention, or it could just be I didn’t want to notice it.  But Alice started getting sick.  I thought it was nothing at first, but it became bad enough that she had to go to a nursing home.  To say she was not happy with that was an understatement.  We all went to visit her, hoping it was just a temporary setback, that soon she would be back in her Laz-Z-boy, watching over all of us.  But she never went back home.  She got progressively worse, and had to be moved to a hospital.  Now if you went by my past behavior, you wouldn’t be blamed for thinking I stayed away.  But I didn’t.  I went every day I had free to go visit her, even when she was not able to tell I was there.  I would go with Tony, or by myself.  I’d like to say I was there when she left, but I wasn’t, but not because I was afraid.  At her funeral service I had the distinct honor of being one of her pallbearers, a duty I couldn’t have done years before.  And to this day I still miss her in the way I miss my grandfather.  And because of her I have not touched a Snickers bar since, which when you consider it was one of my favorite candies, is kinda actually impressive.

When I started this post I said this was about loss and yet more.  A part of me, the less rational me, would like to think that while I lost Alice, I gained a part of myself back, a part of what I lost when I denied my grandfather in his time of need.  I know I can never forgive myself for that, but just maybe, thanks to Alice, I can be at least somewhat redeemed.  And I thank her and try to honor her memory every day because of this.

Now why did I call this post Synchronicty?  Because years after her passing, Alice came to my rescue again.  While I will not reveal exactly what happened (although some people might guess some of it if you have talked to me) I can say this:  Alice was a truly great judge of character and her faith in me shown through to others in most… unexpected places. 

And for that, and a great many other things, I thank you Gramma Alice.  If I was a bit more theologically minded, I’d like to think she’s sharing Snickers bars with my grandpa.  I hope I am doing them proud.