Grandpa thought he was in heaven! The 55 and older community was actually about 65 and older, and most of them were women, so when I visited him, he'd light up and was proud to show me off.
He was still a spry 82, went out for a few beers every afternoon at the local bar, which was really a package store with a bar in the back room, complete with old time bar maids, songs from the Forties, and a million old war stories.
He'd proudly say, "This is my grandson, Harry! He makes a special trip to take me out to dinner, just cause he wants to!"
The old timers would look on jealously: They rarely had visitors, and then it was their nagging daughter or son.
I'd try to go once a month, but I became lax, to the point where Mom would drop hints, like, "I talked to Grandpa today, he says to say hello..."
When we got the call that he suffered a massive heart attack and had died in bed, it really hit me, since I hadn't been there in a while.
We waked him at the community, and the turn-out that day was great. He had many friends there, male and female, and they all expressed their sorrow as we stood in line, me, Mom, Dad, and Aunt Janie, his only relatives.
His bar buddies remembered me and shook my hand. Even the barmaid, Flo, made sure to give me a big hug. I felt so bad at not being there more often and had to excuse myself to dry my eyes.
I stood outside the side exit, out of sight, and lit a cigarette I didn't even want, and my eyes welled up. Poor Gramps!
"Can I get a light?"
I wiped away my sniffles quickly. No one wants to see a grown man cry. "Sure," I turned with my Bic.
She was about 60, tall, slender, a real looker even now. She wore her jet black hair pulled back in a bun, with a pin holding it in place. Her long neck bent forward like a giraffe feeding on a short tree as her hand touched mine to block the flame and light her own smoke.
She straightened, drawing on it, then slowly exhaling. "I hate these things, no matter how many I wind up going to down here." We were almost the same height. "You must be Harry."
"Yes... I'm Tom's grandson."
"The son he never had, I know." Her own eyes were pools of ice blue water, and they were perfectly outlined, not the gaudy makeup that seniors usually wear. "I'm Donna. Tom and I were...close."
"Hi, thank you so much for coming, I'm sure Gramps would have loved the turn-out."
"Hmmm, yes he was well-liked, funny, easy-going, but didn't take any shit from anyone."
I chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like we're talking about the same guy."
"I saw you come out here as I walked in, and I don't want to interrupt your grieving."
I knew she had seen me crying and was telling me it was okay.
"Anyway, Tom spoke so much about you, I had to come and introduce myself. I wanted you to know how special you were to him. We had dinner at least once a week, usually Sundays. I recognized you from the pictures and home movies. Even though you were still just a boy, then"
Her lips were bright red, and she wore a black pants-suit, and I noticed the heels, very classy. She went on. "I know you're busy, with the burial tomorrow, but if you have the time, I'd like to reminisce a bit, at your convenience."
She handed me a business card for a florist in town, Donna Davis, Proprietor. Her home and cell numbers were on the back. She smiled again. "I'll be going now. I'm glad I got to meet you. No need to see the body. I'm sure Tom's up there laughing at us, right now anyway."
With that, she was gone.
The next morning, the sun was bright as they carried him out of the church, to the hearse. Gramps was taking the long ride back to New York for burial, to be with his widow.
I stood outside the limo as Donna descended the stairs, in a dignified black dress, which fit her well. The curves were striking, and I could see the old timers nudge each other and make sure to say hello to her. They appreciated quality.
She had a wide brimmed black hat, and big shades, like Audrey Hepburn in those classic poses. She looked in my direction and nodded. Even with the sunglasses, I knew it was for me, and I mouthed hello.
Two days later, my parents were back to work. I was between jobs and Mom suggested I go to Gramps' house, to start sorting through things, and to ensure anything of value didn't slip out the side door. In communities like these, thieves check the obits and if the deceased was widowed, that meant the house may be ripe for the picking.
A lot of stuff was garbage, some could be donated to charity, although those places were inundated in a community where they all left feet-first.
I had brought my friend's van, and I made three trips to the dump the first day, all just garage stuff, and extra food items of unknown date and origin. I had 2 more loads ready for tomorrow and decided it was quitting time. Gramps would have gone for beers about now, so I showered and changed, and did the same.
The place was the same as when I was last there, and Flo recognized me, set me up at the end, and I sent the regulars a round on Old Tom as Flo made a phone call.
The late day sun shone through the door when Donna walked in, all heads turning. You would have thought it was Dorothy Lamour the way the men reacted, warm hellos with reverence for someone of her stature.
She lowered the shades, then saw me at the end, and I stood as she approached. We shook hands warmly, and she ordered a white wine, and Flo had brought out her private stock. No box wine for this lady! She cleaned the bottle, it was chilled already, and expertly uncorked it.
Flo moved down the bar, leaving us as the whispers continued.
Donna smiled, ignoring the stares. "My delivery boy told me someone was at Tom's house, and he described you. I asked Flo to call if you stopped in, I hope you don't think I'm spying on you, or anything."
"Not at all, actually, I'm flattered! Makes me feel like a celebrity."
"Well, I wanted to make sure no one was ransacking the place until your family could get here. I figured someone would be here in a few days, and I was hoping it would be you."
"I meant to look you up tomorrow, there's just so much to do, and I'm sure you have your own work to do," I said, having had her stuck in my mind for 3 days now, so curious about her and Gramps, almost jealous of him, even though she was clearly much closer to his age than I was.
"Look, Harry, I'll be honest with you, Tom and I were... together the night he died. It was my tun to stay over, and when I got up to make coffee... there he was, gone! I didn't know what to do, didn't want his family misunderstanding, or thinking he was anything but a gentleman, or thinking that he was disrespecting your grandmother, God forbid!"
She was distraught and I put my hand on her arm. "Shhh, it's okay! It wasn't your fault. In fact, thanks, if you hadn't been there, it may have been days before anyone noticed."
She was dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, nodding. "I know, it's just that, for the last year, we were inseparable. And all of a sudden, he was dead and we had so much of each other's stuff. Your mother did not need to find my undies in his dresser drawers. I thought, you are exactly right, Mom would have freaked along with Aunt Jane! Gramps! What a smooth dog! And a looker, too!
"Listen, for the last year, you were closer to him than anybody. I fell off with my visits since then, so you filled the void. (And then some, I thought!) He was lucky to have you...I mean as a friend!" and I laughed nervously.
