Lonely Candy

"I'd like you to send me half a kilo of Mabel chocolates, tu sais des bonbons..." my grandpa told my aunt.
She huffed, "What for?"
"I need to have some sweets in my pocket. I run into friends. I give a little something to them as we catch up."
"I don't think they're expecting this. Dad, why don't you stop coming up with irreverent requests? Do you realize how much this costs?"
"But they are expecting it. Plus, they call me Seker Dede (Sweet Grandpa). I have a name to protect!" he protested.
"Dad, why don't you buy half a kilo of meat instead?" she smacked back, raising her voice.
"Fine, we'll see.." Grandpa hung up after a long, deep sigh.


Grandpa came over for lunch with Esma, his live-in aid. Since he lost much of his eyesight, Esma helps him around the house, cleans up after him, cuts his meat. Today at lunch, we all watched him chase his food. Esma pushed her plate aside and made sure his spoon was full of rice, his fork latched onto the tomato slice.

He knew we were watching. He ate so quickly--so that we could look some other way, Esma could eat her food and he could be a normal, competent man sitting in his chair.
"Do you want me to make you some coffee Grandpa?" I ask, trying to break the ice.
"Later maybe... Don't want you to get tired... Enjoy yourself, rest a bit after lunch..." he responds in a nonchalant fashion.
"No, no it's nothing... I'll get to it, " I insist.

We move into the living room. I sit beside him with our small coffee cups. He says he's not sure if he'll be around next time I come to visit him in Turkey. He always complained about this and that, but this time he means it. He's lost all hope. I can sense it. I know it.

My mom is about to slip off the armchair. She's exhausted. Grandpa takes notice, " Why don't you go rest a bit and I'll take off soon." Mom wants him to stay but go. He's lonely, he misses us, but she's still reeling from her operation. She needs rest. The simplest things, including putting a couple extra plates on the table, exhaust her.

Grandpa, with our and Esma's help, proceeds to the apartment door. We help him put on his jacket. Esma puts on his scarf, holds his bag. I kiss him good bye. He pulls two pieces of candy from his pocket and stashes them in my palm.

"A little something for you, " says Sweet Grandpa.