Just One Story

My grandfather is dying of cancer. His children have gathered around him at the ancestral home of my clan. From the eleventh to the thirteenth, the generations surround him of those who consider Cape Cod a sort of origin. I'm stuck at my job, waiting. It was impossible to alter my schedule in order to be there this weekend with everyone else, but I called my aunt and so was able to talk to them. I was uncharacteristically emotional, far more so than when my grandmother actually died, though I was far closer to her than I am to him.

The reason I'm so upset is because I don't have any stories to pass on. With my grandmother, she was moving away to Florida and leaving Massachusetts, where she was related to half the dirt and grass, behind. I took my mother's advice and asked Grandma to tell me a story of when she was young. And I heard many stories, about my great-grandmother, who was crazy, but free-spirited and loved to travel; about the divorce proceedings, and the pain of choosing her father over her mother; about the hurricane, and walking to a cottage on the Cape in the middle of the storm; of all her teeth falling out at eighteen; about Aunt Betty Mason, the millionaire's wife, of the Mason-Dixon Line fame; about saving Grandpa's life after he was stung by some bees; about out-shooting Grandpa with a .22 and earning her official marksmenship certification; about playing pool and badminton with Grandpa and fueling their rivalry; about her various cats and their backgrounds; about studying abroad in England; about teaching special-ed; about pursuing psychology; about raising five kids; about my dad as a child; about her favorite poets; about medieval studies.

I asked, and so I received a wealth of stories, to add to my own experiences of Grandma. And so, with the tradition of stories, I'll be able to pass these memories on, and the generations will not be forgotten. As for Grandpa -- he's a member of this, that, and the other committee, a retired USAF major, a volunteer plow-driver, a former EMT for the fire department, a school board member, and local politician. His hobbies include traveling, genealogies, the weather, and his cat, Emily. I know a lot about Grandpa. We didn't talk or write often, but it's not like we never communicated at all. And yet, all I know is a list of facts, some more interesting and some less. I can tell you he hunts squirrels, but that's a far cry from relaying a story about my other grandfather chasing a squirrel with a shovel after his BB gun backfired. You see the difference?

It's through stories I remember my great-grandmothers, who passed on before I entered kindergarten. I only have a handful of memories about them, yet I know who they are through the stories left behind. I never met great-great-Grandma Mary, but she's one of the people who I really long to meet in the afterlife, if things should so work out. I feel like I can hear her voice saying "the angeli are a-coming" when her great-grandchildren flock into the room. Great-great-Uncle Tom never really talked so much about his past as much as he made up silly stories on the spot and dropped distilled wisdom into the mix (at the end, maybe five or six times consecutively!). As for Grandpa, though, I have no stories I tell of him, other than what I can pull from the facts. I've never heard him tell a story, even if it's just about his part in the Memorial Day parade. Facts. Facts don't make memories. He's just going to be forgotten, unless his kids suddenly radically change and start telling stories about him. Because, y'know, even if I ask, his kids have nothing to say.

That's my fear: to be forgotten. Then I'd know that I really did leave no impact. My faith is weak. I don't really fully trust that there's anything after this life: this life is my story, and it's end is my end. If it isn't passed on, it's like I cease to exist. Is that all that's in store for Grandpa? Even if his family has gathered around, isn't that the loneliest thing? I kept meaning to ask him directly, "Please tell me a story," but tonight, I talked to him on the phone, and there's no way; even if he's still alive, he doesn't have the strength. What I wouldn't give for just one story!