Author Information
Someday you will understand
Alejandro De la Cruz Tarín
A00816503
Someday you will understand
The day my grandfather died, I returned with my mom who cried all the way home. I only visited my grandfather three times before he died, so I didn’t cry when I see him in that coffin the day of his funeral wasn’t something sad for me. But it was something mysterious to see him there, his skin was pallid, he had calm expression on his face, he was wearing an old brown suit. Somehow that picture of him was totally different from the memory I had of my childhood.
When I visited him, I was ten years old, my mom is from Arizona, but I lived all my life in New York. I was excited to meet my grandfather. “You will know him soon”, my mom repeated to me every time I asked of him. We arrived to his old-big house, my mother left me with him who was alone. He was, even in my perspective of a child, somewhat crazy, but I like the moments I spend with him that vacation, he really liked to be in the limelight. When he wasn’t telling a story about his service in the army, he was making jokes about other people, or even about himself.
“Grandpa, how the end of the world will be?-I asked him (I saw a documental last night, but I didn’t understand anything). He looked through the window for a minute and he said: “How I see you will see, the end of the world is different for everyone”-he didn’t said anything for some seconds then he continued. “In words of T.S. Eliot: ´This is how the world ends not with a boom but with a whimper´, in my case my world will end when nobody can hear my last whisper”.
“I don’t understand”-I answered. “You don’t have to, someday you will understand”. This is how this conversation ends, but maybe it never ended.
Years went by; we didn’t go Arizona again for a very long time. I was sixteen when I visited him again; his crazy attitude wasn’t funny this time, just annoying. I avoid him while I was playing with my phone. He tried to catch my attention with stories and jokes, but I didn’t care about them. I have heard all of them when I was kid. Time went away quickly, and I was 19 years old when I visit him again, this time somewhat forced by my mother. I was with him, but we didn’t talk so much, he tried to tell me again his stories, but I didn’t want to hear him with that, again and again.
“Do you remember what we talk long time ago about the end of the world?”-He asked me suddenly.
“No grandpa, I don’t remember”-I told him trying to avoid what for was a nonsense talk for me.
At the end he just told me “Well, the end is near for me my little son”.
Two months later, my grandfather died alone in his own house. At his funeral I was seeing at all those people who were crying, but they never visited him.
Now, at my 80´s, I remember my grandfather´s words: “How I see, you will see”. And it makes me think about how my end will be.
This poem was writen by Alejandro De la Cruz Tarin
