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A tremor racked through me. “I don’t think I can do it, Nan.”
“You can,” she promised, reaching up with her small hand to stroke my cheek. “I promise.”
Fuck…
Sucking in a sharp breath, I forced myself to open the hospital room door, and walk inside.
He didn’t look one bit like the formidable man from my childhood as he laid in the bed, with tubes and wires all around him.
He looked so small and frail.
“Joey,” Aunty Alice said with a weary smile, as she slowly stood and offered me the chair by his bedside. “I’ll give you a minute alone with Granda.”
You don’t have to go,I wanted to scream, but I just nodded and said, “thanks,” instead.
“How are ya, Granda?” I heard myself say in a shaky tone, when I finally grew a pair, and walked over to him. “I hear you’re not feeling great.”
"Joseph," he wheezed, gingerly raising his hand. “Your name is Joseph.”
"Yeah, Granda,” I whispered, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “It’s me.” Scooping his frail hand up, I gently squeezed. “It’s Joey.”
"Your birthday is on Christmas Day,” he whispered, breathing labored. "A holy day."
“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s me.” Winking down at him, I said, “You have the right grandson.”
“My favorite grandson,” he wheezed, and then gave me a tiny smile. “My Joseph.”
“Ah now, don’t let the rest of them hear ya say that,” I said with a smile, as tears burned the back of my eyes. “Tadhg would be well pissed off.”
A labored cough escaped him and my guilt roared to life inside of me.
“Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t been around, Granda.” Jesus, I was a piece of shit. “I should have come to see you more often.”
“Nonsense,” the elderly man croaked out. “My Joseph. You’re not Noel, Christian, Christopher, Klaus," he continued to ramble, breathing ragged. "Not, Casper, Gabriel, or any of the Christmas names they had in mind.”
"Casper? Klaus?" Reaching up, I wiped my eyes with the back of my free hand. "Thank fuck for that."
"Because you're Joseph," he urged in a raspy voice, covering our joined hands with his other one. "You're my Joseph."
“Are you feeling alright, Granda?” Frowning, I reached over and touched his clammy forehead. “You’re rambling.”
"Loyal, kind, forgiving, fearless, nurturer, protector." He smiled up at me. "Joseph acted… He took on a role…. He was the father of the lost."
I frowned, confused. “Granda, it'sme.Joey.”
"I named you Joseph," he croaked out, swallowing hard now. “Did you know that?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know. How’d that come around?”
"Your father wanted to name you Theodor after him,” he strangled out, breathing labored. “He said you were going to be just like him…” he paused to cough wheezily. "But you were no Teddy. You wereJoseph." He coughed again. "So, I bribed him with a tenner for the pub, and called you what I wanted you to be called." He smiled up at me. "My Joseph. My brave, brave boy. Terrible burdens. A cursed cross to carry. But always rising from the ashes. Always getting back up. Always the… protector.”
“Yeah.” Panicked, I looked around the empty room, feeling at a loss. “Granda, I’m just going to go and get the nurse for you, okay?”
“Don’t give in to them,” he rasped, holding onto my hand with strength I was surprised he was capable of. “Promise me that you’ll… never… give in to them.”
“Give in to who, Granda?” I croaked out.
Gasping and wheezing for air, he looked me right in the eyes, green eyes on green and whispered, “the demons your father put in your head.”
