My Poppop's Jacket

    Ever since I was a little girl I have had one sole image of my grandfather, an image that is still with me today.  My mind will always see him standing out in the yard after working on the old blue truck, country music playing in the background and him wearing one of his jackets.  He was always wearing old flannel jackets, he loved them and ever since before I can remember I have been calling them Poppop's jackets.  Apparently I wasn't very creative as a child.  It sort of became our thing, my Poppop's and mine.  Every Christmas I would get him a new Poppop's jacket and he would always smile.  Sure enough the next time I saw him he would be wearing one of the jackets I had given him.

    I remember working with him on that old truck.  I must have been seven or eight.  He had country music playing and that was what inspired me to start listening to Tim McGraw.  I must have listened to "Dont Take the Girl" a thousand times, although Tim has lost favour with me now.  It was really nice working with Poppop though.  I don't even remember what we were trying to fix but I know for sure that he was wearing his Poppop's jacket.

    Right before we moved away to Saudi Arabia my Mama, brother, sister and I went down to Pensacola, Florida with Nana and Poppop.  I remember it being sunny and there was a big pool; Mama still has pictures of us swimming and her favourite is one of me swimming backwards.  She says I remind her of an otter when she looks at that picture.  There was this nice restaurant that we ate at with cars parked on the roof.  I remember thinking that was strange.  This trip was a lot of fun but it also made me realize how little I knew about my grandfather.  He seemed like a stranger to me.  I was so upset about it that I sat in the hotel room crying.  I don't know if my Nana made him or if it was his idea but Poppop took me out to the Dock that day.

    The Dock ran along the beach and was dazzling.  There were shops on either side of this long stretch of board walk where massive amounts of tourists gathered.  Now when I try to imagine the experience I can only see bits and pieces of the place.  I'm sure the image isn't accurate considering that I was ten at the time and I've since seen many boardwalks.  The image in my mind is probably just a combination of places that I've seen.  However, whether my memory serves me well or not I remember that my Poppop took me to an ice cream store and we drank root beer floats together.  That was the kind of man he was.  When I was sad because I didn't feel close to him he gave me an experience that bridged the emotional gap between us.  I don't remember eactly what he was wearing or what I was, but when I imagine it, he was wearing his Poppop's jacket.

    As I got older my Poppop and I never really got any closer.  We had a few conversations but we never really knew each other.  Then he got sick.  He was transferred to a hospital in Atlanta.  I still don't fully understand what exactly was wrong with him.  He had pneumonia and became even more sick once inside the hospital but I don't know any more than that.  He spent a couple weeks there.  I visited him two times with my parents.  The first time I cried my eyes out when I saw him laying in a hospital bed weak and pale.  He looked at me.  He knew me.  I could only stay a few minutes, a rule of the ICU, so I kissed him and ran straight into Mama's arms.  After seeing him like that I was certain that he was going to die.  I recently realized though that the thing that seemed most strange about him wasn't his physical appearance or his weakness.  He was wearing a hospital gown. 

    On April 9th, 2008 the worst happened.  They pulled Poppop's plug.  It was what he wanted.  Mama, Papa, my sister and I were all sitting in Nana's living room when the phone rang.  Mama was the one who answered it.  She didn't need to tell us what happened, we knew as soon as she started crying.  Mama stayed in the chair, Emily went to her room and I ran outside.  It's so unfair.  After I came back inside I went straight to the closet and got one of Poppop's jackets.  It was green and blue, I had bought it for him the previous Christmas.  That jacket became glued to me, it went everywhere I did.  I cried myself to sleep that night in my sister's bed clinging helplessly to that thin piece of fabric. 

    Time has passed since that warm April day.  I remember that it was suprisingly beautiful.  Warm, sunny, the flowers were perfect and the birds seemed to sing more than usual.  Everyday when I leave the house to go to piano lessons or school or to eat I'll have that jacket with me.  I sleep with it every night.  It still smells like him and it stays by my side no matter what.  For me, it's not a matter of remembering him it's keeping him alive.  He's seeing the world with me.  Every step I take he's right along with me and I can feel him there.  And when I put it on I feel him holding me to keep me warm and safe.  I can never really lose him.  I know that wherever I go and whoever I meet I will always be that little girl on the boardwalk whose entire memory of one man is wrapped around a flannel jacket.  My Poppop's jacket.