ROCKING CHAIR
By
Daniel Skye
Dedicated
to my Grandpa – R.I.P. Anthony Locascio
Hero.
When Justin Swanson thought of that word, he didn’t think
of an actor or a baseball player or a rock star. He thought of his grandpa,
Rick.
An electrician, Rick made enough money to retire by the
age of fifty. And he was diagnosed with lung cancer at sixty. He spent the last
five years of his life fighting the battle bravely. And though the effort was
futile, Rick refused to lie down and throw in the towel. He had his family, and
they were worth fighting for.
But even the best fighters will tell you that you’re
bound to lose one round. And after years of chemo and radiation and dialysis,
Rick finally lost the fight.
Justin cried for weeks after the funeral. He cried at
home, cried at work, cried while he was sitting alone in his car. Justin’s
father had abandoned him and his mother after his birth, so losing his grandpa
was like losing a best friend, a father, and a grandfather all in one harsh
instance.
He was broken up, but he took solace in the fact that his
grandpa wasn’t suffering anymore. He could finally rest in peace.
And when the time came to sell the house, Justin was
charged with the task of clearing out his grandpa’s belongings.
He started with the clothing, creating two separate
piles; one for regular clothing and one for vintage. He figured he could sell
the vintage items to an antique clothing shop. The thought didn’t make him
happy, but it was better than just throwing them away and the money would help
with his college tuition.
In the living room, he tried to estimate the value of his
grandpa’s television. It was one of those old box sets with four legs that you
never see anymore. He couldn’t put a price on it, but he assumed the antique
shop might be interested.
Crammed in the corner, he saw his grandpa’s favorite
chair. A creaky wooden rocking chair that he had carved himself. There was even
a date carved into the back–1973.
He stood, admiring his grandpa’s handiwork and a tear
sprawled down his cheek. “Pull it together, Justin,” he said aloud. “Grandpa
would want you to be strong.”
A cold air circulated, filling the room. Justin stared
down at his exposed arms as the skin bubbled and turned to gooseflesh. Chills
ran up and down his body, and he could feel the tiny little hairs rising on the
back of his neck.
Out of the corner of his eye, the chair began to rock.
His
body quivered at the sight of the chair rocking gently back and forth, the legs
creaking with each motion.
RUN, was his
first thought. Except he was frozen, his legs sunk into the burgundy carpet
like it was made of quicksand. He couldn’t move a muscle. The lamp at the end
table beside the rocking chair switched on and the light flickered under the
dusty lampshade.
But
then the light sizzled and faded. The cold air cleared out and the steady
rocking came to a halt.
“Grandpa?” Justin asked, even though nobody was there to
answer. But although his grandpa was not there physically, Justin could feel
his spirit present. “It was you, wasn’t it?” A smile spread across his whitened
face. “You’re still here with me.”
And that
realization brought about a great sigh of relief. “Just don’t scare me like
that again,” he said, and smiled.
Grandpa
Rick was not really gone. He was still very much with Justin. And he always
would be in spirit.
Justin
finished cleaning out his house and the Swanson family listed it the following
week. He sold the TV and the vintage clothing, along with his grandpa’s record
collection he found stashed away in the garage. It was more than enough to pay
for his college tuition. But there was one item he couldn’t bear to part with.
And it still sits in the corner of his room, rocking gently from time to time,
just to let Justin know he’s never truly alone.
No comments:
Post a Comment