Waking up in the morning and going outside is one way to tell how a day is going to go. The weather always is the first to dictate our initial mood in the morning. If it is sunny and warm, you feel good about things. If otherwise, maybe not so much. Walking outside this morning with a brown sweatshirt and jeans on, I expected to feel the moist humid air amidst a calming rain drizzle. Instead, Mother Nature greeted me with a cold breeze and a rain so ruthlessly hard, it would strike fear amongst any dark underworld ruler. I should have realized this was a sign of things to come.
I got on the shuttle and took trudged my wet shoes and socks through the puddles into the school's dining hall for breakfast. The omelette line was long but I did not care I was in the mood for a ham and cheese omelette. After waiting an agonizing ten minutes, the lady working the station eventually tells everyone in line to switch to the other side as to not to interfere with those ordering french toast, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and the like. Just at the moment we are switching sides, these three Mets fans decide to take it upon themselves to cut in front of me. I had already waited ten minutes and yet, I still found myself in the very back of the line. And while normally I would chalk it up to a rather hilarious incident of people fitting a stereotype perfectly, when I reflect back on it, it kind of makes sense. Life pushed me out of the way and said "take this" much like those obnoxious Mets fans.
This planet will hurt you. It does not matter who you are, where you are from, or what deity you believe in. This planet spares no one from pain. No one from worry. No one from fear. No one from anxiety of what you may find out tomorrow.
On the way back to my apartment at the end of the night after my 3-hour night class had concluded, I decided to call home to get updates on the Flyers score, something I always do when nights I have night classes and the Flyers are playing.
"Grandpa is in the hospital," my dad said.
A chilling feeling ran through my body. A feeling colder than than the hard cold rain of this morning. My grandfather has been battling a cough for quite literally the past month. He had already been hospitalized once for it. Now it has given him dehydration. He battled through the hospital visit the first time, and maybe he will be fine this time. But I worry.
Last month while I was on Spring Break, we were all supposed to go out for dinner at a nice restaurant. His aforementioned cold forced a cancellation of that. That day, I got a sinking feeling I might not see him again. Do not ask why I had that feeling. Maybe I was being irrationally disappointed about seeing one of the most influential people in my life. Maybe it is all a coincidence. But I think back to that and hope I will be able to see him again. Until then, I am stuck two hours away from him without a car. It is a feeling of helplessness, and one I do not like.
Minutes later my mom calls me back. The Flyers are losing 3-2. The Phillies are losing 7-1. The Sixers are losing. She does not know the Penguins score or the Capitals game. I get back to my apartment, and look them up. The Capitals are winning. The Penguins are winning. All five results hold. All five bad results for Philadelphia sports teams. It is inevitably true that what happens in the sports world pales in comparison to real life. But it felt like the icing on the cake. Anyone who has ever been kicked when they were down knows the feeling, for they are truly one and the same.
For the past few days, I began a campaign at Broad Street Hockey called "Keep Hope Alive." The Flyers have been struggling in the last month, and this is a message that implores my fellow fans that no matter how bad things get, until things are over, never give up hope. People counted them out last year at this time, and look what happened. It is why you never give up anything. It is why you always believe until the bitter end, because the reward for believing is always worth it. It is a lesson I learned when the Flyers trailed the Bruins three games to none in the 2010 Eastern Conference Semifinals, and I was the only person in my family to watch Game 4. The feeling of accomplishment, both in my team and myself for staying loyal were unparalleled feelings of joy that I hope all of you get to experience someday.
Now more than ever, I feel like I need the inspiration of my own campaign. To say I am scared to go to bed tonight is an understatement. To say that I will be scared to go to bed for many future nights is an understatement. I want so badly for my grandfather to be all right. To make it out of the hospital just fine and to go to dinner with him once again.
I called his wife this evening and I told her to tell him tomorrow when she visits that I love him. If I cannot be there in person, I at least want him to get the message that I wish to send. My grandmother passed away last summer. I hardly knew her. My grandfather, on the other hand, has shown me the world, literally and figuratively. A large part of who I am today is because of him. Even when he is long gone from this planet in the physical sense, his memory will always stay with me. I will carry it and remember him wherever I go for the rest of my life.
In a large part, I consider myself lucky. Both of my maternal grandparents are alive and in good health at the moment. My maternal grandmother may have passed away, but unfortunate circumstances prevented me from ever getting a chance to know her. My grandfather's wife, while not the most beloved person in my family, is only approaching 50. As I talked to her on the phone this evening, I remember telling her "I love you" and meaning it. I am probably the only person in my family that can sincerely say that. Through our vacations, I developed a bond with her that I do not think anyone else has. My dad and mother were alive when my late Grandmother was still healthy and living with my Grandfather. Perhaps the fact that she moved in soon after her condition forced her to move out changed their perception of her. I do not know, all I know is that I constantly hear my parents talking bad at her. And it irks me because even though she may not always know what she is doing, at least she cares to try to do something. That's special. Not everybody is as lucky as I when it comes to family situations.
Maybe everything will be all right and I will see him back up on his feet and healthy in the near future. It's all I can hope for. If for no other reason then so I can give him a proper goodbye he deserves. He is over 80-years old. For the past several decades he battled weight problems. He had heart surgery once. He will have it again back in May. I am under no belief that I have much time left. I know time is running out.
As I finish writing this it is 1:16 in the morning. It is now officially Wednesday. It's a new dawn, and a new day. I hope my grandfather pulls through and I can see him again. It will torture me for a long time if one of my last memories of him is not going to dinner with him one Saturday in March 2011. I want to hug him again; talk to him again. But even though the rain has stopped, there is still a bitter cold breeze this Wednesday night in early April. The rain last night into this afternoon turned the dead brown grass into a much more lively green color. Perhaps this is the hope I am looking for. Perhaps this means like the grass, my grandfather will once again regain his health, regain his strength, and his life. As I look out the window now and see the first visible signs of Spring under the dim lights of a college campus in rural Pennsylvania, I am once again reminded of what I implored my companions at Broad Street Hockey a few short days ago.
Keep Hope Alive.
