Life has a tendency to rumble.
And although sometimes the rumble can be just the little nudge you needed or a soft buzz in the background. Other times things happen that impact, well...everything.

I've written a blog before about my grandfather, and about his battle with Parkinson.
Reading it now makes me realize even more how things have changed since then, even though at the time it seemed bad already. Since then he's had several strokes, and in the past month or so he's been in and out of hospital at least once a week.

In fact, it got so bad two weeks ago, that they thought he was dying: he suddenly stopped breathing and was unresponsive. And literally had to be slapped back to life by the ambulance personnel.
I jumped on the first possible plane I could get on.

Seeing him this time was the most painful experience in my life, yet it was also excruciatingly beautiful.

If last time I saw him (on new year's) he was a shadow of who he used to be, he's now a soft breeze.

Always a strong man, who worked with his hands all his life, he was very fragile and delicate.
He lay in bed, or sat on a chair next to it, as he couldn't walk. And there had to be someone with him at all time. Verbal as he's always been, he's lost the capacity to speak over the past few months. Having only small moments when he manages to get a word out between unintelligible mumbles. And even mumbling is a heck of a lot of work for him.

But there I sat.
On the bed, next to the chair, where he sat shaking with Parkinson.
I talked to him.
I told him of my plans for the future, things I haven't shared with anybody else.
I told him of memories I had of us, from when I was a kid, but also more recent memories.
I told him of everything that was going on in my life at that moment.
And he grabbed my hand with both his trembling hands and squeezed it so tight that it felt like he was putting all of his strength into it.
He mumbled and smiled broadly.
He told me he was happy.
Painful as they are, and much as I've been crying every day since I left, trying to process everything;
the few little moments I had there sitting on the edge of his bed, next to his chair, are some of the most precious and special moments in my entire life. They are treasures worth more than any riches in the world could ever be worth.
I may not have much, but I have that.

I took that picture just before I had to leave to the airport.
As he squeezed my hand when I told him I had to go.
Gave him the biggest hug I could muster and whispered in his ear:
"See you later, grandpa.", I said.

I don't believe in goodbyes.

The doctors can't predict how long he will be around, and if things will get worse soon, or if he'll get some of his strength back. So I just call him every single day, and tell him what I've been upto.
Try my best to make him smile.

It's his 84th birthday in two weeks...

And on a lighter note....

(^_-)

L' Amour Digitale

So...

Love in the 21st century...

I just spent another 20 minutes helping a friend to try figure out what a text message meant that a guy she likes sent to her. That's 20 minutes for this particular text message...one of many.

Which made me wonder: isn't the texting thing more of a problem than a communication tool when it comes to love?

I mean, texts can mean different things depending on the person who reads or writes them.

If you're in a grumpy mood an exclamation mark can feel too forceful, while if you're in a happy mood an exclamation mark can mean utter joy.

Love is complicated as it is, but I just get the distinct feeling that some of the digital stuff isn't making it any easier.

I guess I kinda miss the days when you called a boy, only to hang up, when he picked up the phone and said "Yes?".

No redial options, no numbers in screens...just that...

The tension and excitement when it happened to be him on the other side, and you finally picked up the courage to say: "Hey, it's me...I don't know if you remember me, but..."

These days you have it all: each other's email, mobile, Twitter, Facebook, Wordfeud, IM and Skype accounts. Where do you start?

And: sometimes somebody can write awesome emails, but then you meet them...and...well....

Another friend of mine spent two weeks chatting with a guy she met through a dating website.

He was friggin' awesome! He was in a band she likes, cute, funny, had similar likes and interests...they texted and chatted to 4 am every day, those two weeks.

Until she felt it was time for a face-to-face chat.

So she playfully suggested to meet.

He started backing off.

Suddenly becoming awkward and weird, and less and less communicative.

Until she got so fed up with it, she sent him a long email basically saying: "DUDE WHAT THE FUCK?!?!"

Then....after a few days...he answered.

Turns out: he was a she, and she had pretended to be this person all along.

She claimed it was research for a book...

Yeah, right.

Needless to say, my friend contacted the real guy's management AND the people of the dating site and let them know what this person was doing.

I dunno...

Call me old fashioned...but after a couple of disastrous internet romances, and to and froh texting, and analyzing...I think I'm more of a "Hey, it's me...I don't know if you remember me, but..." kinda gal.

I'd rather bump into someone in a museum queue in the rain...

More o' dat!

I've recently come to the realization that for some nutty reason I always manage to view "the" movie I need to see in a particular time or place.

This mainly occurs when I go to the movies alone, and when I'm some sort of inner turmoil, be it because of rumblings, writers-block, the shaping moment of brilliant ideas...or life changing situations and journeys.

It's especially poignant because I go to the movies A LOT.

Seriously, if it were up to me I'd do film marathons every other day.

That's because films are sorta my brainfood, I guess...films and music.

(yeah, you've seen me blip like a maniac, you know what I mean)

But that doesn't mean that every mouthful of film or music I devour leave a lasting impression...

At least not one that I consider to be ultra-inspiring and boosting and..."oh my gawd I needed to see that movie!"

Needless to say, after I saw Drive earlier this evening, I just HAD to walk home (took me little over an hour) with some pumping music on my headphones, while in my head I glued words together and composed scenes.

After which I ran to my computer at home and wrote, wrote, wrote, wrote, wrote, wrote, wrote....well, you get the drift...

I could seriously just kiss that movie...

There's so much lushness about it that I can't even begin to explain it without getting mush, overly excited in more ways than one, and ultra analytical, so I won't.

Also Beginners was beautifully wonderful in so many other ways...

I've already written blogs and a myriad of tweets about some of the movies that made a lasting impression, others I've kept to myself. But I'm very happy to report that although the world is in crisis, and there's horrible things going on out there, that there's still films being made that inspire, that boost, that touch, that delight, that rock.my.world.

More o' dat!

(^_-)

Ghost in a shell...

I don't even know where to begin...
Maybe it's here: I'm currently writing a story about my grandfather.
This isn't it.
But it's about him.

He was our rock.
But now he's a mere shadow of himself.
He's here, but he isn't.

My grandfather has Parkinson.

And altho it might seem kinda jolly, the initial shakes, and Michael J. Fox manages to rock it like no other, it's no jolly decease.
It affects the whole body, and slowly but steadily little bits and pieces stop working the way they should. (if you want to know details: please google it, I dont' want to fully get into it)

About 6 weeks ago I went over to see him and my gran, over the weekend.
Booked a flight and went.
It was the best decision I've ever made.
Because I got to still see him, go for walks with him, fight with him over who would pay for ice cream, laugh at jokes and talk about life.

He was already in a far worse state than when I had seen him over X-mas, so that shocked me.
But he was still there...

Now...
6 weeks later...
My grandfather is a mere shadow of who he was...
He doesn't remember where his bedroom is, or how to go about doing the things he normally does.
And his eyes are glazed over.
He's been very very sick the last couple of weeks.
And increasingly more disconnected.

But today...
Today he remembered that he promised me to tell my mom a joke he told me when I was with him 6 weeks ago....

I can't begin to tell you how emotional that makes me.
The best gift ever.
The best.

I love him so much,
and it's so horrible to see him like this.
For the past few weeks I haven't been myself.
I can't help worry about him.
Think about him.
It tears me apart.
So, sorry if I haven't been very communicative of late...I just don't know where to begin...

Lost

I guess that the weirdest things in life are its contradictions.

Like feeling painfully lonely in a crowded room.

Feeling older or younger than you are.

Or feeling lost, when you never physically got lost in the first place.

How do you explain such a thing to somebody who's experiencing the opposite?

How do you say to somebody in a crowded room, that you're feeling lonely?

And how do you tell the world you're feeling lost, when you're there.

I guess this could be one way....

It

too

shall

pass

Lurking Lurks

No matter where you are in the world,

there's always men lurking on street corners.

And there's always street corners for men to lurk on.

Some cities seem to be purposely built for lurking.

Like they've made lurking a local gold medal sport.

Do they time their lurks, I wonder?

Do they plan them?

Or does it just pop up; "hmm, think I might go lurk tonite"

Lurkers come in all ages, sizes and heights.

There's midget lurkers, and giant lurkers.

Lurkers with long overcoats.

Lurkers with cigarettes.

Lurkers that whisper dirty somethings when you pass.

Lurkers that glare silently.

There's even lurkers shivering in the rain.

Girls don't lurk tho, they wait.