thinking of my grandpa
I had a weird dream last night with a reoccurring background theme of being lost in a hospital sort of trying to escape, not fully capable as if I’ve got to rescue someone first (no idea whom). I must have been on Miami since I was staying with my paternal grandfather although I don’t remember seeing him in the dream.
He’s the only of my grandparents alive or, at least, I think he’s still alive. When my relationship with my father went to hell, I lost all connection with my paternal side of the family (except for my brother and sisters). I’m not even sure if my grandfather’s still alive. All I know is that when his time comes, I might not even be told to say my last goodbye.
I truly miss my grandpa. After all, I never had a real relationship with my father’s family. As a matter of fact, I didn’t care about my paternal grandmother who practically despised me (that hypocritical bitch, for whom I was blamed when she fucking died although I was far away), but he was different with me (maybe one of those good things that come out of a divorce) while growing up. My best memories were riding in his blue Ford truck with his dog — a real trucker (flat bed, crates to deliver, highway, dirt roads, his dog, but no CB radio) in his sixties if not older.