Whenever You Need People

When my Pawpaw died about 4 ½ years ago, I was devastated. Mostly just shell-shocked by the impossibility of it. You assume that those people that are huge, those people that are larger than life presences, those people that have always been there will continue to always be there. After the funeral and ceremonies and the formalities of death passed and we went back to new normal life, I was so relieved that he was still there. I could hear him, I could see him, I could feel him, we could still talk. Even though he was gone, he wasn’t. I was relieved. My cousin Windy, who is extremely close to me and was also extremely close to my grandparents, told me the same thing. She still talked to him all the time. She could still hear him in her head every time she went to peel a potato, for instance. Pawpaw was very particular about potato peeling and if you ever wanted him to come help in the kitchen, all you had to do was start peeling a potato and it wouldn’t be 5 seconds before he was next to you, taking your knife, showing you the “right” way to do it. Cause you were doing it wrong. Peeling more potato than you were peel. Let me do it. Like this.

Then when my grandma passed away, about two years later, again I was devastated, but I knew that soon I would be able to feel her around me too. That she would still be there. And I believe that she is. Somewhere. But I can’t feel her. Not the same way. And since my grandma died, Pawpaw is gone too. I still say my prayers at night, I still try to talk to them sometimes, but it’s not the same. And strangely, Windy says the same thing. She can’t feel my Pawpaw the same way since Grandma died and she can’t feel Grandma the same way she used to be able to feel Pawpaw. Especially strange for both of us, because as close as we were to Pawpaw, we were probably twice as close to Grandma. If you knew my grandmother, this is where you would joke about her probably getting to heaven and putting Pawpaw right to work. They don’t have time to talk because she’s reorganizing heaven and he’s running to fetch things or just staying out of her way. Maybe that’s true. Or maybe my Pawpaw felt so close during those inbetween years because he was waiting for her. Maybe that’s true too. I just know I miss them.

Last night I had a dream. I was pregnant in the dream and in my grown-up house. Windy was there and Pawpaw was watching TV in the living room. I was in the future baby’s room and it was empty except one bookcase along the wall. And that was mostly empty too except for some framed family photos. I was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the walls, because Windy had decided to help me out without my knowing and had painted the entire room and ceiling a light blue color while I had been out for a while. I knew I was having a girl so I was standing there, alone, staring at the walls and ceiling trying to decide if I loved it or hated it. Actually in the dream, she had painted almost every room of my house and I was had been walking slowly through the house in disbelief. It was actually a pretty sloppy paint job, I remember, (sorry Windy, it was just a dream) and I was trying to decide how to tell her I wanted to kill her before finally ending up in the baby’s room. And then Pawpaw walked in the room. We talked. I don’t remember what we said. But I do remember standing in front of the bookcase and looking at the pictures. (As we were walking closer to the bookcase and closer to the wall, I realized the paint color was really more a green than a blue. Strange.) They were pictures of family members who had passed on. I remember a picture of my Uncle Steve, specifically. He was in the picture, holding a huge baby on his lap. I made a joke about that baby, whoever he was, already being bigger than my Uncle Steve. In my dream, I knew who the baby was but when I woke up, I had no idea. Then I must have said something about all the people missing or wishing they were still here, I don’t remember exactly what. And my Pawpaw looked at me and smiled. He said “Whenever you need people, that’s always when the clouds show up.” And I woke up.

I don’t know what that means. Clouds are people? He’s a cloud? Why couldn’t he be more clear? Clouds aren’t clear, clouds are cloudy. Dammit, Pawpaw. For someone who had so many opinions in life which you made more than clear to everyone within hearing range, you would think the first thing you’ve said to me in years would have been a little more specific. But it was good to see you. Good to hear your voice. I miss you. Maybe you’ve been here the whole time? Here but not here, always there but not obtrusive, not something you notice unless you look up. Kind of like a cloud? Maybe. I’ll take it. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll never look at clouds the same way.

I’ll also never let Windy paint my house, but that’s really neither here nor there.