Goodnight Diary.
It’s terrible not to have a friend. I’m so lonely and so alone. I think it’s worse on week-ends than during the week, but I don’t know. It’s pretty bad all the time.
I got some papers back today and I haven’t gotten anything under a B+. I’m also starting a file of statistics relating to kids and drugs. Someday I’ll tell you about it when I don’t have to spend every minute studying.
Gramps had a stroke. It happened during the night, and Mom and Dad are flying out there today. They’ll be gone when we get home from school. They are so sweet. They were more worried about leaving me than anything else. I’m sure they know how lonely and frustrated I am and I’m sure they ache inside as I do about Gramps. I used to think I was the only one who felt things, but I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity. It’s a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would really be a gory, blood-smeared earth.
Gran will be so lonely if Gramps dies. I just can’t picture her without him. It would be like cutting a full person in half. Sweet old Gramps, he used to call me his Five-Star General. I think I’ll write to him before I leave for school and sign it “Gramps’ Five-Star Generaclass="underline" ” No one else will know what I’m talking about, but he’ll know.
Bye now.
Dad just called to see if we were all right and to tell us Gramps is worse. He’s in a coma now and all of us are pretty upset, particularly Alex. When I tucked her in bed like Mom always does and kissed her goodnight, she asked if she could come and get into bed with me if she got scared during the night. Sweet little thing. But what do you say to someone when they feel rotten and there are no answers???
Then I went into Tim’s room and kissed him goodnight. He’s pretty upset too and I guess we’re all in rotten shape, even Dad.
Tim and Alex and I all got up at the same time and straightened our rooms and fixed our cereal and fruit and cleaned up the dishes together. We were really quite efficient, if you can believe that!
Gotta go to school but I’ll write more tonight if anything great or tragic happens.
Dad called, but things are about the same. Gramps is a little worse but still holding on. They can’t really tell which way he is going to go. I guess he’s pretty critical though. Alex clung to me and cried. I feel like crying myself. The house seems so big and lonely and quiet without Mom and Dad.
Gramps died during the night. The day after tomorrow Doctor _____ from the university is going to take Tim and Alex and me to the airport and we’ll fly to his funeral. It seems unbelievable that I will never see Gramps again. I wonder what has happened to him. I hope he’s not just cold and dead. I can’t bring myself to think of Gramps’ body being eaten by worms and maggots. I just can’t bear to think that. Maybe the embalming fluid they use just causes the body to disintegrate into dust. Oh, I surely hope so.
I couldn’t believe that was Gramps lying in the casket. It was just a tired, drained, skeleton covered by skin. Oh, I’ve seen dead frogs and birds and lizards and Easter chickens, but this was such a shock! It seemed unreal. It was almost like a bad trip. I’m so grateful I never had a bummer. But maybe if my first trip had been, I wouldn’t have taken any more. In that respect I wish it had. Gran seemed so calm and loving. She had one arm around my shoulder and one around Alexandria’s. Precious, strong Gran, even during the long, long, long, long, long funeral she didn’t cry. She just sat there with her head bowed. It was a strange almost eerie thing but I felt as though Gramps was there beside her. I talked to Tim about it later and he felt exactly the same way. When they lowered Gramps’ body into the ground, that was the worst part. That was positively the worst part in the whole world. Alexandria and I cried even though none of the rest of the family did. I tried to be as strong and controlled as they are, but I just simply couldn’t. Mom and Gran and Dad dabbed at their eyes occasionally and Tim kept sniffing, and of course Alex is a little girl, but me, well, naturally I made a spectacle of myself again!
Gran is going home with us tonight and she’ll stay till school is out. Then I’ll come back with her and help her get organized to move in with us until she can find a little apartment close by.
I don’t know when I have ever been so tired in my life. I can’t even imagine how Gran holds up because I can barely move. All of us look as though we have been endlessly ill. Even little Alex is dragging. I wonder how long it will take us to adjust to life without Gramps? Will we ever be the same? How will dear, precious Gran manage? When she gets into her new apartment I’m going to stay with her often and take her to movies and go on long walks with her and things.
This morning I looked out the window and saw new green popping through the soil and I started crying uncontrollably again. I don’t really understand the resurrection. I can’t even conceive how Gramps’ body which will decay and sour and mold and mildew and fall into crumbling little bits can ever come back together again. But I can’t understand how a brown dried-up, shriveled little gladiola bulb can reblossom either. I guess that God can put atoms and molecules and bodies together again if a gladiola bulb without even a brain can do it. This really makes me feel a lot better, and I don’t know how I could ever expect to understand death when I can’t even understand television or electricity, or even stereo for that matter. In fact I understand so little I don’t know how I even exist.
I once read somewhere that man uses less than a tenth (I think) of his brain capacity. Imagine having 90 percent more thinking ability, and using every bit of it. That would be simply glorious! Imagine what a perfectly marvelous planet this would be if minds were 10 times more efficient than they are now?
I had a nightmare last night about Gramps’ body all filled with maggots and worms, and I thought about what would happen if I should die. Worms don’t make distinction under the ground. They wouldn’t care that I’m young and that my flesh is solid and firm. Thank goodness Mom heard me moaning and came in and helped me get hold of myself. Then we went and got some hot milk, but I was still crawling and I couldn’t tell her what had happened. I’m sure she thought it had something to do with the times I ran away, but I couldn’t tell her because this was even more horrible.
I was still shivering after the milk, so we both put on shoes and walked around the yard. It was chilly even with our robes over our night clothes, but we talked about a lot of things including my becoming a social worker or something in that area, and Mom is very pleased that I want to help other people. She is really very understanding. Everybody should be as lucky as I am.
I have to force myself to concentrate in school. I didn’t know that death took so much out of people. I feel completely drained still and have to force myself into everything I do.
Today Dad took me to an anti-war rally at the university. He is very worried and upset about the students and talked to me as though I were an adult. I really enjoyed it. Daddy is not as worried about the militant students (who he thinks should be dealt with very harshly) as he is about the kids who could be easily led into wrong thinking. I’m worried about them too. I’m worried about me!