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I can still smell the wave of cologne every time I walk through this house. It triggers a part of my brain I thought had been erased or buried deep inside my mind, far away where it could no longer hurt me. He meant more to me than anyone I have ever met. The day he left me repeats over and over as the smell gets stronger. My heart begins to ache and scream inside, "what a trader", I say to myself. "I can't remember what he looks like', I think quietly. How could I ever forget? The day my grandfather passed away was the worst, hardest, loneliest day of my life. It's funny how you remember bits and pieces of people, but I can remember everything about him, except what he looks like. That thought scares me more than anything.
My grandfather, Al, towered over me. His beer belly stuck out over the edge of his baggy jeans. I can remember looking up into adoring eyes that shined like glistening emeralds. I could get lost in his bear hugs, as his humongous arms engulfed my little body. I always felt safe there. We spent endless hours doing each other's hair, his always ended sticking straight up. His head looked like a rainbow when I placed all my clips creatively around his graying hair. The sunlight glittered off his always tan skin and his white, grinning smile. That smiled stretched on for days and always made me smile in return. His sense of style I remember most, always wearing his black and white striped overalls, baggy around his legs, but tight on his belly. Those oversized glasses that sat on his perfectly shaped nose, his brown work boots flopping on his big feet, and the smell of Iron cologne on him, always mixed with sweat.
He created my personality. Every habit, talent, weakness, and emotion I gained from him. When I was little he was the reason for my being. He was my earth, sun, moon, and stars. There has been so many times that I have needed him in the past years, but when I go to turn to him, he's gone. We received a phone call one night at about two or three in the morning. It was the hospital and they were calling in regards to Alfred Salyers. He had passed away. I can still hear my mother cry, but I stood there dumbstruck. I wish I could tell you how I felt and what I was thinking, but it all was a giant blur. Everything I had ever known began to run together, as if my life were painting and someone had thrown water on it, mocking my happiness.
He always knew how I was feeling, but I wondered if he knew how much he had hurt me. At first I began feeling anger and resentment, then loneliness, then sadness, and now it has come down to all of those mixed together and then emptiness added to the list. I can hear the guns give their twenty-one gun salute in his honor as they lowered my other half into the deep, dark, cold ground. I remember wanting to jump into the coffin and shake him to wake up, yelling that this wasn't funny and that he couldn't leave me all alone, "I need you", I wanted to shout.
All that remains in my past, all I have left are memories, pictures, videos, and a half empty bottle of Iron cologne. The smell helps bring back memories of the magnificent man I loved, but they won't stop the pain or bring back my other half. Each day I live for him and try to do what he would've done, but I always find myself wondering… Is it possible to go on living without your other half?
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