A Box with Two Airplanes on Top

I guess Abi and Amanda have inspired me to talk about my lost beloved family member as well...

Mine was my grandfather.

His name was Darrel Earl Wise. He was a wonderful man. He was a man of many hats in his youth: baker, fireman, deputy, and a soldier. He nearly went to war twice, but each time he was to be deployed, a friend of his with no family would offer to go in his place. He had a wife and two daughters. He lived a good life, took care of his friends and his family, worked hard every day into his 70's, played with his grandchildren like he was 20 years younger and always wore his love on his sleeve.

I only remember him being angry once, ever. Upset, disappointed... sometimes. But Angry, only once. At my grandmother. She was an infuriating woman so the fact that I only recall him having one good loud screaming fit with her is amazing. I remember they were in the laundry room at their house which was situated in a very odd place, on the middle landing of the short stairs down into the den. He walked into the laundry room while she was in there and they started talking. He asked her about something and then the conversation got heated. He got mad and yelled "God dang it, Betty!" and I remember her yelling at him and then lots of yelling until she started grabbing her hair and pulling on it like she was going to rip it out and he just flung his hand dismissively and walked out. She yelled "DARREL! DARREL! COME BACK HERE!" and he walked outside. I went to see if he was okay and he had gone to the truck. I asked him if I could go and ... I don't remember what happened. I just remember he just wanted away from her for a moment. I know that at some point he ended up sitting there talking to me. He told me some about being mad at her, but he didn't really go into details about what they were fighting about. I think he didn't want to tell me whatever it was... but he did need someone to talk to and I loved him so much. I hugged him. I know I took his side. And I remember being VERY made at my grandmother for making Paw sad.

I have no idea how old I was then.

I remember laying in the big net hammock we had at his house and rocking back and forth with him and him singing me songs. He'd sing old war songs and he'd sing these two old songs that were so sad. One was about a mother who didn't stay home with her child and her child died. The other was about a mother getting a letter to show her son had died in the war. I wonder why he always sang such sad songs. I didn't care then. I just loved that he sang with me. He told me stories too.

One day I walked into Maw and Paw's house and Maw was cleaning a closet. I saw a box with a pair of airplanes on it and asked what it was. Paw grabbed it and said it was his old jewelry box from the Army. He sat down with me and opened it and showed me every thing inside it. He told me a story about where each tie tack and watch and cuffling came from... And then when he was done, hours of talking, I looked at it, looked up at him and said "Paw, when you die, can this be mine?" He said "You can have it now." I wanted it so badly. It meant so much to me. Memories. So many little memories. And not a thing in that box was worth a dime, mind you. Nothing fancy or made of precious metals. I was looking at a  precious treasure box, however. Full of things that could each remind me of a part of my Paw's life.

My Maw came out of the hall closet and yelled "Now Darrel, that's not fair. You can't give all of those things just to one grandkid." Paw said "They're my things and I can give them to who I want to." He also made some comment about me being the only one who was asking for his stories and listening to them. Maw insisted and he got upset, shut his mouth and walked downstairs, as he often did when she made him upset.

She took the box and kept it.

I remember being upset, but it just seemed mean of her. I didn't think it was fair.

I remember when I was 13... It was December, almost Christmas... and my little sister was nearly a year old.
I had been at my grandparent's house that day and was heading home that night... Paw was in his big comfy chair out in the spa room watching tv. He said "You sure you don't wanna stay tonight?" and I said "Not tonight, Paw. I just wanna go home." He said 'Okay, gnight. I love ya." I said "I love ya Pawwy, G'night" and I walked out. The clank of the screen door will forever remain in my memory.

I was helping my mom clean house the next day before we would get our tree up and finished. She said "Go to aunt Tonya's house and get some of that coconut cake for me." I said okay and walked out.

I should tell you our home was at the bottom of a small hill. My grandparent's house was on top of the small hill, and my aunt lived at the bottom on the other side. All of this is within easy walking distance, like 100-150 yards between my house and my aunt's.

I walked toward my aunt's house, up the driveway which passed my grandparent's house with the intent to walk down the hill on the other side like I normally did. As I did, I would pass the path to Paw's spa room with the chair he usually sat in while watching TV. It was around 10 or 11 in the morning.

I was an absent minded kid. I would often get into my thoughts and forget what I'd been doing. I was doing that that morning. I can't remember what I was thinking about. I think I was mad at my mom tho. That was common, so it's hard to tell. But I didn't walk to my aunt's house. I went on auto-pilot and walked into my Paw's spa room. And he was in his chair where I'd left him. Which was normal. He'd often get up at the crack of dawn, drive to Jacks, get a biscuit and a cup of coffee, pick up a paper, bring it home, sit there in his chair, read the paper with the news on and then fall asleep again for a brief nap. Well I figured this was just what he'd done as he was obviously taking a nap.

But Paw was a light sleeper. And when that screen door clanked shut behind me, he didn't move.
I looked up and said "Hey Paw... good morning... Paw?" And then I remember looking at his open mouth.
His head was lulled back, like it would when he was sleeping in that chair, resting on the back of the chair, and his mouth was open. I could see into his throat and it looked strange. I couldn't say what was off about it... but in his throat, something was wrong.
I got scared.
I got on my knees and shook him. "PAW!?" His arms were cold. I shook him more as it started to dawn on me that he was not going to answer me.
I remember starting to cry... my eyes were burning... I could barely breathe.
I stared at him in horror then started to scream but no sound came out. I just screeched soundlessly... and stared into his throat... stared deep into that spot where something was wrong. I guess it was completely dry... and not moving.

I finally stood up, started to back away, horrified, and threw open the door into the house, ran up the stairs as fast as I could move, flung myself into my grandmother's bedroom and shook her awake. What I remember was yelling "MAW! MAWWY! HE's DEAD PAW'S DEAD! HE'S GONE!"


What my grandmother told me I did later was: "I was laying there awake before you came in. You walked into the bedroom so quiet and still. You were so calm. You said "Paw's dead" and then you walked out without saying another word." She said it was the most horrifying thing she had ever seen. This was all in retrospect, what she told me after she'd had days to calm down...

I will never know whether her story was true or mine... or both somehow. Did I scream in my mind when nothing would come out of my mouth?

I remember her yelling and screaming his name.
I remember her hurrying to get up and me running back down stairs. I went back to the room with him and threw myself down at his feet and laid my head on his knees and grabbed his hand and just cried. I cried and cried and cried and sobbed and weeped.

And at some point I looked up and realized a paramedic was asking me to move over so he could check something ... and I realized there were like a dozen people in that tiny room. I had never heard or seen any of them come in. It had all been like silence.

I got up at that point and someone tried to hug me. I jerked away. I ran as fast as I could back into the house and ran downstairs to Paw's rooms in the basement where he kept his wardrobe in a big walk-in cedar closet. I opened his drawer, fished out one of his handkerchiefs and wrapped it around my wrist and tied it there. Then I walked out the back door and around the back of the house.

I wandered slowly around the back side of the house where no one was and just numbly cried. Maw and Paw had a pretty big house and a very big property.

By the time I got around to the front... apparently the preacher had arrived and was sitting on the front porch waiting for someone to want to talk to him. He called to me and asked me to come up. I came up. I sat down at his beckon. He talked at me. I don't remember what he said. Then my mom drove up to the porch on her little scooter and talked at me. I remember looking up and I was bent down hugging her when I'd been on the porch last. It was like someone has fast-forwarded and edited a section out. I didn't remember moving. I walked away slowly and she sat there and cried.

I remember seeing my cousins coming up and standing there crying. I remember being vaguely mad at them. I don't know why. Some friends who I had gotten rather close to that year showed up and offered to take me home with them. (They were twins, boys, teenagers... very good friends at the time. Very kind.) I don't remember why I went. But I did. I don't remember anything except for their mom forcing me to eat a really huge chicken bacon club sandwich she'd made and me being unable to eat more than a quarter of it.

Actually... I remember sitting on Byron's bed watching him and Lamar play Ocarina of Time. I had my knees up, hugging them and I just stared and watched. I don't remember saying much. I know they tried to comfort me. They tried to help... but I was... not answering.

The funeral came and I'd barely spoken a word in days. This was NOT. LIKE. ME.
I remember saying nothing as people came up and apologized, told me they were sorry for my loss... whatever. I just sat there, stared off at the coffin. My Paw was in there. I walked up so many times to stare at him. SO Many Times.
I also brought some things to the funeral... a book he liked, a vhs of his favorite Roy Rogers movie... a tie tack my mom had bought for him that I put on his tie... and a letter I wrote him. A long one. I put these things all in the casket with him. Someone had the audacity to remove the tie tack and so it later showed up at home in a box.. but that's another story.

I stared at him so many times then just ghosted back to my seat. Sometimes I'd cry, silently... other times, I'd just stare. Then sit back down.

I remember when they got up to talk about him ... I nodded through every nice thing they said because they were all true things. He was a wonderful man. A good friend. A wonderful parent. A fantastic grandpaw.

When they asked if anyone wanted to say anything, my insides screamed at me to stand. I couldn't. I was just hurting so bad.
Then they swung the coffin door shut and I let out a blood-curdling scream. Everyone remembered that one. I didn't just imagine it. I had not spoken or cried audibly in days... and suddenly I screamed so loudly everyone jumped. I just wailed... and finally someone pushed me out a door and I looked up to realize I wasn't in the funeral room anymore. My cousin, Heather, had taken me to a side room and was hugging me. I didn't remember moving from point a to point b. I still don't. I remember in my mind, vividly, staring at the coffin door closing and feeling a horrible, overwhelming feeling that that really meant he was gone... they were closing the door... forever. And then I looked up and my cousin was holding me in a gently lit room with flower paintings on the walls. I stared at one of those paintings while she murmured things in my ear about how Paw was in heaven or something like that... I don't remember walking from one room to the other. I just looked up and was there.

And then they lowered him into the ground. I think I cried... normally... threw a rose in... and then sat there.

And everyone else left.
Until it was just the close family.
And finally even all of them, Maw included wandered off toward the parking lot to make to leave.
I stood there and stared at the grave. I read every word on his tomb-stone a hundred times.
I traced the words with my eyes. Then when everyone else walked away to discuss eating, I sat down and traced the words with my fingers, smelled the flowers... picked a few petals off them and sprinkled them onto the freshly turned dirt... then just laid down and listened. I remember saying "Paw?"

Then I remember being in a car. I don't remember moving from laying on Paw's grave, asking... secretly... for him to answer me... to being in a car. I don't remember walking. I was just... in a car suddenly. Staring out the windows at places that I didn't recognize. It felt like I'd been in a car forever, but I remember distinctly being surprised I was in a car and not knowing how I'd gotten there.

I wanted to go back. I wanted to be there, in the cemetery... with Paw.

The rest of that year was a blur. Christmas came and went... as he'd died on December 21... and I didn't want gifts or food or movies or carols. I barely spoke or ate for three months. I spent many days at Byron and Lamar's house, sitting on Byron's bed, watching them play Zelda... occasionally taking the controller to the weird new gaming console (The N64) and poking at the game a little myself. They were more than happy to let me play... but I barely wanted to.


I remember inheritance being spoken of at some point. My cousin wanted Paw's pickup truck and his TV and his Jacuzzi...
Apparently, Paw'd left his pickup to me in his will tho. So that got sold... since I was 13 and couldn't use it.
I didn't care. I went to my grandmother and said "I want Paw's box."

She said "What box."

I said "The box he gave me years ago when he told me all the stories about his jewelry. The one with the airplanes."

She said "I don't know where it is."
I knew she was lying, by her tone. She was not going to give it to me. I remember sneaking into her house a few hours later when she was outside, going to the hall closet where I knew that box had been... and looking for it. It was gone. She had moved it, hidden it. She was not going to let me have it. I cried. I had at least wanted to see it.

I remember my grandmother getting the kids and grandkids together to give them things. I remember her telling my cousin he could have the Jacuzzi and Paw's TV. I remember her telling my aunt and mom they could have this or that. I remember her offering me Paw's expensive gold watch she'd bought him for Christmas that year. I took it and looked at it... then threw it down as hard as I could and left.

I didn't want a fucking watch to sell.

I wanted the memories he'd given me. I wanted the box.

I remember crying... trying to remember all the things in it. And I couldn't.

And then crying even more.

Over the years... I had many nightmares of Paw... where I'd see him walking around normal and I'd be surprised because I knew he was dead, but somehow there he was. I'd walk up to him and TRY MY BEST to use every second of the time we had together. I'd just want to talk, hug him, tell him I loved him... anything. And then the dreams would either break down, or I'd start to fear I was losing him again because he'd stop responding normally or would seem to almost run out of juice or some such and I'd emptily realize he was going to slip away again and I couldn't keep him. I had those dreams so long...

And I would wake up so many nights and think for an instant, I saw Paw standing at the foot of my bed. But he would be gone by the time I turned on the light.

For years... December 21 was a dreaded day for me. I would cry... and cry and cry all day. I couldn't help it. It was the day I had lost my beloved grandfather. The only true family I had.

Years passed... the wound slowly closed.
I had married my beloved and we'd been living for a while now in what was originally the house Paw grew up in, the house I grew up in as a child. (My parents had finally moved out and the house was partly in my name, so I got to take over.)
One day, Zach J had come over and was hanging out with us as usual. I got... tired... early. I said I was going to go lay down and went to bed. My bedroom, the master bedroom, was on one side of the living room and the bedroom I'd grown up in as a child was on the opposite side of the living room. I went in there, laid down, felt oddly drained and sad... and went to sleep.

I had dreams of Paw coming into the room and standing at the foot of my bed... then I could almost have sworn he was really there. I looked up, waking, and saw him there. I turned on the touch lamp and he was gone... as usual. But something strange had happened... I had his handkerchief in my hand. I looked down at it in awe. I'd kept it for years in a little treasure chest jewelry box that Paw had given me years before his death... in my old room. My old room was the one opposite the room I was currently in with the living room between. I heard Zach J laugh in the living room and got up... I walked into the living room, dazed and asked Anna "Did you bring me this?" And held up Paw's handkerchief. She said "No... I haven't been in there. What is it?" I glanced at the door to my bedroom... stared at it a moment shocked... and asked Anna "Did I get up and come back out here?" Anna and Zach both assured me I did not.

I walked into the bedroom I'd normally kept the kerchief in and found the treasure box sitting there undisturbed. Dust still covered the top, untouched in quite a while....

I looked up at the calendar on the wall as I walked back into the living room. It was December 21st. I had not realized the date until then.
I went back to  bed and laid down and just held my Paw's handkerchief and cried and whispered a thanks. The thanks was to him. I knew... he'd brought it to me...

After that year... I steadily got more 'okay' about Paw. Somehow... that strange occurrence that night had given me peace. I think because I knew... he was with me. He was still there... somehow.

The last thing I really want to say is ... several years later... when we found out we were expecting Rune... I had gotten very upset about Paw again one day... and was crying. Because he would never get to know my spouse... or my child. My mom had been dead for years... not that I'd ever gotten along with her well... but my aunt Tonya had kinda tried to take up the slack for me having no one to talk to about some of the things you might talk to your mom about normally. I walked down to her house and sat there a moment and talked.. .then I looked up, admitted my sadness about Paw. And we talked a moment and cried a moment.
Then I looked up at Tonya suddenly as something had dawned on me. I asked her "Tonya... did Maw ever give you a box with two airplanes on top with some of Paw's old jewelry in it?" She had no idea what I was talking about. She'd never even heard of it. I grew secretly furious inside. Maw hadn't kept that box from me to be fair. She hadn't distributed those things to the family so everyone had some of them. I was the only one who'd even known about it or wanted it.

I walked furiously up to her house that day and came into her bedroom where she often sat and sat down next to her. I talked to her about how I wished Paw was going to meet my child. Then I looked at her and said "Maw... do you remember that box with the airplanes on it that Paw said I could have?" She shook her head. I knew she was lying. I said "Maw... please... listen to me." She just shook her head and looked off  and said firmly she didn't remember.

I remember it being quiet a moment... then I got down on my knees in front of her and grabbed her hands and looked up at her and said, my eyes starting to tear up, "Please. Maw... please give me the box... It had so many things in it that Paw told me stories about ... and it's been years now... and ... I'm starting to forget. I almost can't remember. I want to remember so badly." I was getting really shaky and could barely speak without my voice cracking and trembling. She was looking off still, but her face was red and her eyes were glassy. I let go of her hands and got up and walked to the door then stopped. I said "Please... if you won't give it to me... just let me SEE it. Let me LOOK at it and REMEMBER ... Paw told me about who he was... and those things all reminded me of some part of him... please don't take that away from me forever. Please." And then I walked out.

My grandmother never said a word to me about that box again. She swore up and down to my aunt that she had no idea what I was talking about.

Then one day... Maw called and said to come to her house because she had some clothes she wanted to give me. I went and she handed me a bag with some various clothes she'd gotten for me and started talking absently about how I could take this back if it didn't fit or "Take that up if it's too big" or whatever... and I noticed a Wal-mart bag that was tied up on the bed. I looked at it and saw through the semi-opaque plastic that there was a small dark box inside. I looked at it... disbelieving.. then picked it up and pushed the plastic down to see two airplanes. I looked up at her and said "Maw?" And she just shrugged. "You can have it." I didn't speak. I threw myself at her, hugged her, and cried... then I stood up... and realized I was so angry I could have hit her. So I dropped the bag of clothes, took the box my grandfather had tried to give me over a DECADE ago.... and left.

I didn't go back to see her much after that. All that time... she had known where it was. She had kept it from me purposefully. Not to share it with anyone like she said. She hadn't even had it out for herself. She'd just hidden it. So I couldn't have it. Because I'd always been his favorite... and she didn't think I deserved his attention and love. That was the truth of it, as I would come to find out. And this... is also a major part of why I don't speak to that bitter, selfish old woman anymore at all.

This is my grandfather's box.

It has a lifetime of memories in it... And I treasure it as no one else ever would have.

Sorry about the stuff in the bg... I just photographed it on my desk.

Those little things... plastic and non-precious metal... They're full of answers... about who my Paw was.

And this was a photo-collage of Paw that my mom made before she died. From top left to bottom right: 1.My cousin Heather when she was like 7-8 standing with Papa Wise, Paw and Mama Wise 2. Paw in his Country Gas work uniform, the blue coveralls I'll always remember him in 3. Paw playing with one of his grandkids as a baby (I don't think that's me). 4. (Middle, far left) Paw, Tonya and Maw when they were in their mid 20's and Tonya was 3 or 4 years old. 5. Paw sitting at the table in the house I remember. 6. My mom, my little sister at age 1 and a black spot with a relative I disliked under it. I marred that section years ago. Never understood why she put a picture that didn't even have Paw in it in the Paw collage... my mom was so dumb and weird. 7. Paw playing with one of his grandkids. Maybe that one's me. Maybe not. I can't tell. Amazingly, I don't remember what I looked like as a baby that well. 8. (Bottom far left) Paw's army picture. He was very handsome and he had the most beautiful crystal-blue eyes. You can see that better in the bigger version of this photo that I have in a frame on my wall. 9. Another photo of my Paw when he was a young man. 10. Paw in a recliner I don't remember, looking a bit younger than I easily recall. I think this picture must have been taken when I was really little. I don't recognize the room he's in either. 11. Just a good snapshot of Paw with his happy eyes and his lop-sided smile. I inherited that smile. And his corny sense of humor. 

That's all for now... I think it's quite enough. 

There were many things in this I didn't remember before I wrote this all out...

I needed this post. It hurts... but I have brought things back.

Now if I could find a way to make a recording of my dying memories of his voice... I'd be fine.