90s Are Back!
My grandpa continues to amuse -- me for sure. Not my parents...they see him like a kid who needs to be under constant watch. To me, he's a fun friend, a confidant. He doesn't have the authority he had when he was running his business, telling my grandma to hurry up and bring him salt or snore through the night only to remain oblivious to complaints from the crowded household the next morning. He lost much of his sight now. He can't cook for himself. He needs to be taken to doctors. He alternates between my aunts' and our house over the weekends. He has help at home, but if you ask him, the woman's presence in his house is a natural result of my dad and my aunt's oppressive plan to control his life.
So he takes off! To break loose a bit. He jumps in the middle of the crazy Istanbul traffic. He calls the cabbies who slow down as he crosses the street his friends. He knows every single pot hole in his neighborhood. And despite being attacked by street dogs once, he still walks in the park everyday. He needs air. He needs movement. He needs to feel free.
He feels his best in Buyukada, the largest of the five Prince Islands near the Istanbul coastline where he has an apartment. Along with much of the population, he moves to his summer location in May. There, he is happiest. He says the trees are particularly lush this year, that's why he cannot see the sea from the terrace anymore. The city apparently fixed the roads. He listens to gossiping women at the club and tours the island between 7 and 8AM every morning.
He comes to his own in Buyukada. A 95 year old boy, who still has his eye on the highest branch. He is convinced he can climb it in one try.
That's why he didn't tell us about his first brain spasm. He knew well that my dad would ban his move to the island and he would be trapped in the city instead of splashing around at the beach. Then came the second one. Luckily for him, after he made it to the island where noone would or could drag him to a hospital. He shrugged this one off too. Apparently when someone is shy of a century, their zest for life becomes stronger than their fear of death.
So he plunged ahead and went for a swim in the middle of a heat wave. We learned only after the help called saying "Papa" had lost his speech again. Only this time, it didn't come back for a longer while. My dad's face got dark when he heard the news. The same darkness I had seen when he lost his mother. "This is bad ... this is really bad..." he kept repeating to himself, beating his leg with the back of his hand.
When grandpa's speech came back and his blood pressure leveled off, my dad fumed over the phone line "whathehellwashethinkingtakingadivelikethat?" "I just went for a little while, don't make a big deal out of it. It was early in the morning too, before the heat," I heard grandpa keep his ground. He may have been tired, but he was resolute. "What if something happened to you while in the sea?" my dad pressed on with rhetoricals. "I got my friends there, they would have come to my help," grandpa offered wisely referring to a group averaging around 85. "Unbelieavable, unbelievable!" my dad said, pursing his lips and handing the phone to me.
"Hey grandpa!"
"Hi Mimika!" he chuckled with joy upon hearing my voice.
"What happened? What did you do to yourself?"
"I didn't think this one through I must admit...but don't you worry about me. Have a wonderful trip back. And just so that you know, I have full confidence in you. Don't ever think what would grandpa say. If you have to make a decision there, I would be ok with it here..."
An avid listener of his grandchildren's love affairs, that was his code for saying I had his blessing, with whomever I chose -- should he not live long enough to see. We went through this ritual over the phone every six months or so.
"I'll call you once I settle in Brooklyn," I said, thankful for our silly conversation.
I called him the first day back, before immersing myself back into my US life. The live-in aid had to call him to phone. He was entertaining some guests. He thanked me for remembering to call him and indicated that he could not stay on the phone for long, because the guests had brought some cookies and other sweets. "It's all free, it's awesome," he added. He was himself again -- 90 or 5.
So he takes off! To break loose a bit. He jumps in the middle of the crazy Istanbul traffic. He calls the cabbies who slow down as he crosses the street his friends. He knows every single pot hole in his neighborhood. And despite being attacked by street dogs once, he still walks in the park everyday. He needs air. He needs movement. He needs to feel free.
He feels his best in Buyukada, the largest of the five Prince Islands near the Istanbul coastline where he has an apartment. Along with much of the population, he moves to his summer location in May. There, he is happiest. He says the trees are particularly lush this year, that's why he cannot see the sea from the terrace anymore. The city apparently fixed the roads. He listens to gossiping women at the club and tours the island between 7 and 8AM every morning.
He comes to his own in Buyukada. A 95 year old boy, who still has his eye on the highest branch. He is convinced he can climb it in one try.
That's why he didn't tell us about his first brain spasm. He knew well that my dad would ban his move to the island and he would be trapped in the city instead of splashing around at the beach. Then came the second one. Luckily for him, after he made it to the island where noone would or could drag him to a hospital. He shrugged this one off too. Apparently when someone is shy of a century, their zest for life becomes stronger than their fear of death.
So he plunged ahead and went for a swim in the middle of a heat wave. We learned only after the help called saying "Papa" had lost his speech again. Only this time, it didn't come back for a longer while. My dad's face got dark when he heard the news. The same darkness I had seen when he lost his mother. "This is bad ... this is really bad..." he kept repeating to himself, beating his leg with the back of his hand.
When grandpa's speech came back and his blood pressure leveled off, my dad fumed over the phone line "whathehellwashethinkingtakingadivelikethat?" "I just went for a little while, don't make a big deal out of it. It was early in the morning too, before the heat," I heard grandpa keep his ground. He may have been tired, but he was resolute. "What if something happened to you while in the sea?" my dad pressed on with rhetoricals. "I got my friends there, they would have come to my help," grandpa offered wisely referring to a group averaging around 85. "Unbelieavable, unbelievable!" my dad said, pursing his lips and handing the phone to me.
"Hey grandpa!"
"Hi Mimika!" he chuckled with joy upon hearing my voice.
"What happened? What did you do to yourself?"
"I didn't think this one through I must admit...but don't you worry about me. Have a wonderful trip back. And just so that you know, I have full confidence in you. Don't ever think what would grandpa say. If you have to make a decision there, I would be ok with it here..."
An avid listener of his grandchildren's love affairs, that was his code for saying I had his blessing, with whomever I chose -- should he not live long enough to see. We went through this ritual over the phone every six months or so.
"I'll call you once I settle in Brooklyn," I said, thankful for our silly conversation.
I called him the first day back, before immersing myself back into my US life. The live-in aid had to call him to phone. He was entertaining some guests. He thanked me for remembering to call him and indicated that he could not stay on the phone for long, because the guests had brought some cookies and other sweets. "It's all free, it's awesome," he added. He was himself again -- 90 or 5.
posted by Mimi Media @ 10:45 PM
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