Fühlen, Part 2

                Christmas was coming, however our family could feel the oncoming touch of cold death. We knew grandpa was going to get sick and eventually die. We all knew it, but he didn’t. In December, Grandpa realized that his life may be coming to an end. For the rest of us, the hints were evident. He was skinny and couldn’t eat. He was coughing up black mucus, dried blood oozing from his lungs. I can still remember visiting him, and he had just gotten sick and the stench was overwhelming. My senses were tingling because of a profuse fetor and I was forced to deal with it maturely. It was a lot to ask for a 12 year old.

When January came, the cancer had gotten its cold, dark hands further up my grandfather’s body, but we still couldn’t do anything about it, he was literally helpless. As a family, we decided to take him to the local hospital. It reeked of death and sickness. And unfortunately my grandfather was condemned there for the rest of his life.

February was the worst. The day of the 22^nd stuck its little hand into our lives, my grandfather was resting, was dangling on a piece of string, and it was showing sings of tear. My mom was gone, my grandma also, they were living with my grandfather full time. They were already doing this from our house, but this time my mom was living there with her parents. On that day, I woke up to the sound of my mom talking to me.

“Are you awake yet? My mom said.

“Hmmm, yeah.” I moaned, pushing through the haze of the early day.

I looked at the alarm clock, it said it was 6 AM. Suddenly, I realized I was being woken up far too early. My heart started pounding and my brain racing. I knew something was wrong with grandpa. Still, I held back my tears. I quickly put on my clothes. I didn’t even try to comb my hair.

By the time I got to my grandfather, he had already died. His hollow shell, the man I had looked up to for so long was gone. The hairs of his face chiseled into his small face. He had a tear running down his eye. However, it was beautiful. The cancer may have claimed his body, but he died with his eyes closed and his dignity strong. I’ll never forget that day. The gentle snow was falling that day, covering the world in mourning. At that time, in that place. I thought the snow helped my grandfather ascend to heaven.

“Fühlen.”

When it was time for the funeral, a lot of people came to the ceremony. The funeral was intensely sensitive to a lot of the people. I heard the crying erupting in the back of the church. There were blemishes on the scene. It seemed a normal funeral, however, the box that was once my grandfather didn’t seem right, it was too small, too little of a monument to his honor. During that reception, I felt someone sitting next to me.. I was placed toward the end of the pew, it was empty.

I don’t now, maybe I was just needing that feeling, or maybe it was real. All I know was every time I felt that presence sitting next to me, I heard that one word again, “Fühlen, fühlen…” This time, I was saying the word. I wasn’t yelling it, but I wasn’t holding it under my breath either. My brother-in-law sitting next to me wasn’t listening, so I was not being heard. To this day, I don’t know why I was saying it.

It was nearly five minutes of repeating that word over and over. It started to feel irritable to me, frustrating. I suddenly felt a great mental pop. Suddenly, I started crying. It was wonderful and sinister at the same time. I could feel the resistant, warm, wet tears drop down my cheek. Suddenly I was holding my hands on my face, the word started to fade in steps.

First, I was saying it, then I was whispering it, then thinking it, and then finally, I was barely hearing it, and I was free. I felt as if two cinder blocks were hammered off my chest like an explosion. However, afterwards, relief, relief that would last forever. When I recovered from the blow, I looked at myself. I wasn’t crying anymore. I felt better. At the same time, I felt something next to me leaving, like it had done its duty.

He left something behind, he left me to live. I lived that entire year with nothing but his illness weighing on me, on us. But, I think at the end, the snow, in my mind had a responsibility of sorts. In my mind, it helped guide his soul to wherever it was going. Since my grandfather cried on his deathbed, that gave me permission to just “fühlen”. Once, before the cancer took over his body he told me, “Don’t worry about dying, because the minute you do, you’re dead.”