Sunshine

I remind him of a song he isn't sure exists. 

He'll start to hum it, then reach for his guitar and start to strum along, but he can't quite strum and think about the notes that may compliment this foreign tune. Then he gets frustrated, slams it down, and we all stay silent around him for a bit. We try to act like nothing's wrong, but Papa has Alzheimer's. 

Papa, (also known as grandpa, Pop, or, the Terminator, as he prefers) was The Fonz of grandpas, only cooler because he didn't have any hair. So you would never catch him staring at himself in a mirror, or clogging up the shower drain when my little brother and I slept over. He wore leather jackets with chains and Skull T-shirts. He was an expert with his acoustic guitar, had seen every single country western with his trusty bag of potato chips and could quote any film involving or even mentioning The Terminator. Him and I would play video games like Resident Evil on his computer in the dark and on long car rides down to Virginia from Queens, we would be the only ones awake, listening to Johnny Cash or the Temptations. He would tell me stories about how he met grandma, how he bought his first house at 21, and how he once "saved the family" one morning by catching a mouse in the bathroom and getting it out of the house fast enough for my mom and her siblings to get to school on time. 

I started to notice that something was off about two years ago. 

I was headed back to New York from Virginia one afternoon. Grandma was in the front passenger seat, Pop was driving and Mom and my cousin Chase were in the back with me. Pop was telling everyone about his recent trip to China. 

"What was China like?" I asked, also wondering where he found the time. He was a full time truck driver and it wasn't odd for him to do drop off's in different states a lot further away.

"He stared off for a bit, still driving, before responding with, "There were a lot of people, and the food was really good."

"But wh-" I began, before grandma cut me off.

"He's never been to China" My grandmother said sternly, trying to end the conversation as suddenly as it had began. 

"Yes I have!" Pop protested, slamming his foot on the break. 

"We've been together for over 60 years, grandma argued. When did you go to China?"

"Can we do this later please?" my mom asked, frustrated. 

I couldn't' handle the 3 of them yelling, and I had a bus to catch.

"Just please", I interrupted. The car turned to me. "Just please let him finish the story."

"Well alright, Chyna", my cousin hissed.

They didn't usually call me Chyna, albeit my name. They called me Chai or Nu, and only used Chyna when I had done something wrong. My cousin and I were close in age, so I wasn't in any trouble. It was personal, and it made me feel like I was the reason my grandfather believed he had gone to China. I sank in my seat and listened to the rest of his story like I had asked, and took what felt like the longest bus ride ever alone back home. 

Growing up, I thought Pop would be around forever. He was born on October 5th and I was born 50 years later on October 3rd. Legend has it, I came home from the hospital on the 5th and was the best birthday present he had ever gotten. We were the best of pals ever since. I followed him everywhere and laughed at all of his jokes, even the ones with curse words that I overheard. One day he showed me his deer hunting shotgun, and told me that he once took down an entire army all by himself. 

"GET THAT SHIT AWAY FROM MY CHILD" my mom screamed. 

I laughed. Nobody was tougher than Papa. I wished he was my dad instead.

Phone calls now are hard. We either fall silent after the usual "How are things down there?" conversation, or he'll start telling a story, get mixed up, start it over, then pick up where he was on the first story, and add to the cycle until grandma takes the phone back. Sometimes I wonder if he knows that he's talking to his only granddaughter. 

I'm going down to see him in June. I'm terrified that he won't remember my face, but it'll be worse if I wait longer. I wish there were two of me, so that one of me could always be with him and the other could work. I'm trying to work as hard as I can now, so that he won't have to work anymore. I dream that he'll be able to meet my kids one day, when I'm ready to have them.  

Nothing in life is certain, even when you plan it. Pops was in tip-top shape, so no one saw this coming. I don't know how much longer him or grandma have, or if they'll be able to live without one another. I don't know how fast his mind is going, or if this is the worst of it. I don't even know if he knows how much I love him.

The only thing that is certain, is that song he can't quite remember.

But it's okay Papa, it exists and I remember the song well.

And you are my sunshine too.