lucabrasi

My grandfather on my dad's side died on August 15th, 1962 while my dad was preparing to start his senior year in college. It was by far my fathers worst academic year, and after grade inflation during the Vietnam war, it probably cost him a spot at the nations top law schools despite already having a PhD from Princeton. I don't know the cause of my grandfathers death. I've only asked my dad about it once and he said that his father died because he didn't want to keep going. I know it wasn't suicide, but I suspect he drank himself to death. I was born August 15th, 1982.

My mom described her father as a tortured soul. He was a surgeon during World War II and, ironically enough, was stationed in the Caribbean. My grandmother was the first of a long line of "wounded birds" with whom my he took an interest. The original wound was a teenage pregnancy--a secret that my grandmother literally took to her grave but surfaced shortly afterwards in the form of a half sister my mom never knew she had. Infidelity was evidently an aspect of the culture in which they lived, and after a decade-long affair my grandmother left him and remarried. My grandfather died of causes-unknown, alone save the craziest dog I've ever met.

Take it for what you will. I am haunted by my past.