Flash Fiction

Tommy Andrews

Ms. Bennett

World Literature Honors 5th Period

4-23-15

Remembering Grandpa

“We gather here today to remember the great life of Jerry Luckas.”

The calm, sweet voice of my father carried throughout the silence in the room. As I searched around, there was not one person who could keep their eyes open without having their emotions move into tears. I sat there, the lone person without a tear in my eye. Why was I different than the others? It was like I almost didn’t miss my grandfather at all. As the ceremony continued it was the only thing on my mind. I never felt like my grandfather was a big part of my life, why did he impact the lives of all these other people?

After my father finished up his words, he began the slideshow. The pictures were fairly boring. Every once and awhile my grandfather would be doing more than sitting in his chair smiling, but that was fairly rare. However there was one photo that caught my eye.

There I was, on my green new Mongoose bike with the training wheels, with Grandpa Jerry holding my back. I had on my bright blue helmet strapped on so tight my eyes were barely visible. Then there was gramps. He had a slight smirk on his face, as if he enjoyed every second of the ride. However you could see me screaming at the tops of my lungs. I looked like I was going to fall, but there was my grandpa, saving the day. Then I thought to myself, maybe grandpa Jerry was more than I remember.

That photo was the only one I could remember after the slide show. While I sat there contemplating, people were getting up giving each other hugs, getting ready to leave the ceremony. After everyone had left, I helped clean up the flowers and the tables with my parents.

My father stared at me with a, solemn face and said, “You know son, you may not realize it now, but your grandfather was a great man and he has done so much for you. It was always his goal to make sure you lived your life in happiness. One day you will truly understand his impact on your life”

At first my fathers words stumbled me. I did not know how to respond; so to continue the conversation I asked, “Did grandpa really teach me to ride my bike? I have only the slightest memory of that.”

“Of course he did son. Sure as hell I didn’t. There are so many things your grandfather has done for you.”

“Like what?” I proudly said as I lifted my chin up and chuckled.

“C’mon son! Where’s your appreciation? I can’t even believe you. I’ve had enough of you,” he complained as he strutted off in disgust.

Again I felt lost into my own thoughts. What was my father trying to tell me? I never thought about grandpa as a big influence in my life, but as I continued to contemplate, I discovered many great memories I had been through with my grandfather. I began to reminisce in one of my favorite times I spent with my grandpa.

“Grandpa Jerry, can we pleeaaaaassssse go get some ice cream?” I said with a vibrant six year old smile, crossing my fingers while I begged.

“Of course we can Josh! Anything for my favorite grandson.”

Slowly we rolled down to our favorite ice cream shop up the block, holding hands the entire way. The sun was out the birds were chirping; it was a very bright and energetic day. The vibrant and exciting afternoon seemed like a familiar feeling when I was with my grandfather. As we got closer to the shop, Grandpa Jerry let go of my hand, thrusted his body forward and let out a holler, “Catch me if you can!” He was not the fastest fellow, but he sure had a lot of energy. Quickly I sprung up. I never turned down an offer to race. I sprinted with all my might, head falling back, jolting back and forth until my own drool was forced out of my mouth by my quick movements. I quickly passed the old man and got to the shop first. I was rewarded with the honors of the first scoop of ice cream.

And then it stopped. I had forgotten where I was, caught in my own memory. “Josh come help clean up the tables,” I heard my mother yelling from across the room, waking.

“Fine mom!” I screamed back.

I walked across the room and picked up a table, turned it sideways, then folded up the chairs. I glanced over my shoulder and I saw my father walk by and glare at me. I could tell he was still frustrated with me. As he strutted past me, trying to ignore me, I reluctantly said, “Hey dad. You know, you’re right. Grandpa Jerry was so great to me. In fact, I wish he was with us right now. I wish we could all go get ice cream, or something like that.”

“Well I am glad to hear that son. I wish he were here too, but nobody lasts forever, but its their actions and their love that will make us miss them forever.” My father calmly stared at me for a couple seconds, until he let off a light smile, and walked away.

I put down the table and walked over to my grandfather’s coffin. On top was a picture of him, smiling with his classic Grandpa Jerry smile. I kissed the picture and told him I loved him for a final time. It never occurred to me how I had never truly appreciated him, until he was gone.