And how is your heart?


Today, I saw my grandfather for the first time since his heart attack last week that left him confined and mildly delirious at the PGH. We had lunch at the family mafia home in Rolling Hills in honor of my long gone grandmother’s death anniversary.

There is something very ironic about seeing an old man who’s survived almost 4 heart attacks surrounded by platters laden with cheesecake and turkey. I remember standing beside him and cutting myself a slice of cake. I asked him if he wanted any and I don’t know if he heard me wrong, but he shook his head and told me to, “Eat, eat as much as you like.” Which pretty much testifies to the kind of philosophy that has guided him and gotten him (and his heart) to the state he is in at the moment.

My grandfather’s dying, and he knows it, so there’s not much use in denying it anymore. I went up to his room to say good bye, and before leaving, I asked him, “How is your heart?”
“My heart? My heart is in the right place.”
And that’s what made my day today. There’s a precise moment when someone who had you convinced of their oblivion suddenly makes you realize that they love you. I think my grandfather actually loves me. Now, let’s go eat some cheesecake. :)

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