My paternal grandfather is a character. No one, but no one, can play the emotional extremes better. When he's happy, he's silly and borderline giddy. But when he's crabby, really there are no words.
Tonight he was crabby.
Weeks ago he'd invited me to dinner at a really nice restaurant. He often takes my mom, aunt, and a few close friends to nice restaurants, but rarely me. Usually when we go out together we go somewhere that serves pizza or great hamburgers (which I love), so I was really looking forward to tonight. That was my first mistake. I played it up too much in my head when I should've been noncommital.
When I arrived at his house to pick him up, the first words out of his mouth were, "I want you to know that I'm in a really bad mood but it has nothing to do with you."
Oh goody.
Apparently everything that could possibly go wrong for him today did go wrong, with a few extra surprises thrown in for good measure. I didn't ask for details because I've learned from past experience to avoid fanning the flames of an already over stoked fire. Believe me, his fire was already at the level of an inferno.
Dinner wasn't much of an improvement. The service was lousy, the food was mediocre, but I still enjoyed having time alone with my grandpa. In fact, one of the biggest blessings in my life has been getting to know him as well as I have. When my grandma was alive, her star shined so brightly that it practically blocked his out. He was around, but only in the outskirts of whatever we were doing. Since my grandma passed away eight years ago, I've made it a point to visit Grandpa every Sunday afternoon and my life has become so much richer for it. The good, the bad, and the ugly, for the most part I've cherished every moment I've been able to spend with him.
Including tonight.
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