The Atlas to My Grandfather the Earth

Whew! I'm back, after a one-week hiatus. I again realized how the Internet, and my PC for that matter, has become a big part of my current life. Well, even when I was in the Philippines, being an editor, I was virtually online every day, researching for references and writing and editing articles. But only now that I've been realizing that the Internet is more than anything for me now--it is my easiest link to my precious ones. As many of my friends already know, I'm stuck in the house, taking care of my maternal grandfather; so I'm online almost every day, especially when Papa is not being stubborn, just sitting there quietly in front of the 50-inch TV and watching either of his favorite channels: Showcase and A&E (Arts & Entertainment).

As If I Was Disconnected
My cousin Mike (with whom Grandfather and I are staying) had the flooring of his house changed from carpet to laminated wood. The work began on Monday, December 12, and was completed yesterday. We had to move most of the furniture and other stuff including the computer into the garage, the reason I was unable to use the computer, more so go online, for one week. It was difficult! I'm already accustomed to going online to check my e-mails and research and read and study and, most of all, communicate with friends and my loved ones; so inability to use the Net for a week felt as if I was the one who got disconnected from my own world.

Oh, Idle Mind
What did I do then in that relatively long week? I just listened to New Wave music on my MP3 player, setting on repeat mode the song that reminds me of home chiefly because it was the last song I played on August 14, 2003, my last morning at our home in San Pedro, Laguna, Philippines. Tears fall and my lips frown every time I listen retrospectively to this song.

Home and Dry (Neil Tennant / Chris Lowe)
by Pet Shop Boys
(Release; 2002, EMI)

So my baby's on the road
Doing business, selling loads
Charming everyone there
With the sweetest smile
Oh tonight
I miss you
Oh tonight
I wish you
Could be here with me
But I won't see you
'Til you've made it back again
Home and dry
Home and dry
There's a plane at JFK
To fly you back from far away
All those dark and frantic
Transatlantic miles
Oh tonight
I miss you
Oh tonight
I wish you
Could be here with me
But I won't see you
'Til you've made it back again
Home and dry
Home and dry

Far away
Through night and day
You fly long haul tonight
Come to me
You know I'll be here
when you call tonight
Oh tonight
I miss you
Oh tonight
I wish you
could be here with me
But I won't see you
'Til you've made it back again
Home and dry
Home and dry
Home and dry

I got to read more too. I'm still on the book A History of Writing by Steve Roger Fischer. And above all, I got to spend a much longer time talking with my grandfather. The only problem was, my grandfather, having nothing do, got even more stubborn and pesky. Idleness has made him more restless. Idle eyes, restless mind.

Last Tuesday, my grandfather gave me another problem. I knew it! That's why he was reading the brochures almost every day. He wanted to buy a notebook this time! Yes, a notebook, a computer notebook. Gully eLf! What would he need a notebook for? I asked him why. He simply said: "I've been wanting to buy a notebook years ago. I want to be able to play games and watch movies there." I said that he could do those things with either Mike's or my computer, so he does not need a notebook. Besides, the notebook he was eyeing costs about C$2,000!

I tried hard to divert Grandfather's attention, but he was persistent. I told him that I'd surely be the one finding myself in the hot seat. My relatives would probably think that I was the one who prodded him to buy that expensive toy. Deep inside me, of course, I'd love to be able to use that notebook if ever; but not at this time; not with his money; and certainly not just to hear again unsavory remarks from the same relatives who made a big fuss when Grandfather bought me my own PC last March.

Ultimately, I said to Grandfather: "No, you cannot buy a notebook. I won't be accompanying you, and you cannot go out on your own anyway."

"I'll ask Mike to bring me to Future Shop," he said, long-faced.

"Okay, tell Mike. That's better," I said, exasperated.

The next day, since that the kitchen was full of furniture and other little stuff, eating there was uncomfortable; we dined out. There! Grandfather finally told Mike about the notebook. (Actually, Mike's wife's cousin Jenny, who also knew about Grandfather's current fixation, had already told Mike about the notebook, so I kind of felt relieved finally.) Mike repeated to Grandfather what I already litanied the previous nights. Defeated, Grandfather just fell silent like he always did when caught in a similar situation. At least, the issue about that notebook was finally settled. And the best thing is, they heard about it directly from Grandfather's mouth. I'm finally off the hook! And, of course, no one's buying a notebook. Not now.

Actually, I also got Grandfather's point. How he always tells me that he knows his Time is near, so he wants to be able to do whatever remaining thing he can do, especially buying things, which is actually his hobby. But what can I do? I'm not the decision maker. Honestly, if I'm the one to decide, I'd let Grandfather do whatever he wants to do; for I know that inability to spend one's own money is very frustrating to anyone; besides, Grandfather is already in his twilight, he deserves to do whatever harmless he chooses to do. It's his money anyway.

Some might say that I have an ulterior motive, that I feel this way because I knew that whatever Grandfather would be buying he would most likely be leaving to me. I know that, hypocrisy aside; but that's besides the point. It just happened that I'm also in the position to know how terrible it is to be deprived of one's wants and needs, for I am.

But, as I said, I can't do anything about it. Not now. Not yet.

I am just my grandfather's caregiver.

I just hope my relatives would not blame me if the inevitable finally claims my grandfather. For I can sense that some would. But I'm half-expecting it anyway—that I have also become the default scapegoat. All I know is that I am doing my best to extend my grandfather's life in the most comfortable way possible. I've been sacrificing a lot. I'm a very respectful and much controlled person now, but the moment someone blames me when the time to ferry my grandfather to the Undying Lands comes... I can also be as mean as orcs like them.

My Grandfather the Earth
Grandfather has developed an attachment to me. That's inevitable, I know you'll understand, obviously because I've become his companion all day and night. He usually opens up about any stuff only to me. When he's mad, he'll tell me. When he wants to buy something, he'll tell me. When he's having chest pains, he'll tell no one but me. When he doesn't like the food, he'll tell me. When he feels sad, he'll cry to me. In fact, he even revealed to me a dark secret, which he has been keeping to himself for so long. I feel special for that. He said that I may divulge it to our relatives only when he's already gone.

In short, I've become my grandfather's ultimate confidante. I know now that I came here not only to serve as my grandfather's caregiver; I was chosen to become his conscience, shock absorber, jester, storyteller, story listener, and most of all, the Atlas who will carry his burdens.

Will I persevere? Of course, I will. I mean, I have to. I need to, lest I might outrace him to the Finish Line. And I wouldn't allow that to happen. Like Bilbo, I cannot leave Middle-earth without finishing my masterpiece; and like Frodo, I have to return to Shire first, to share the fruits of my labor, before I can join the rest of the Elves on their journey to the Undying Lands.

For the meantime, the eLf is back and is here to stay.

aLfie