Not the way it oughta be...

I got to my grandparents' house around seven last night, just in time for dinner. Friday nights at their house is what Sunday dsupper was back in the "simpler time" most people talk about. We had twenty-six family members, spanning four generations, having dinner together, being together, and it was as beautiful as I remember from my youth. Nana worked as a cafeteria lunch-lady before becoming a nurse, and Papa was a cook in the army. Translation: Neither one of them know how to cook for less than fifty people. It's much less supper as it is a feast.

I only wish I could've gotten there sooner so I could help with dinner. Ordinarily, it was Nana in the kitchen taking care of side dishes, while Papa was manning the grill outside. Last night, as it has been for a couple months now, Papa was too weak to cook. So, my uncle was taking over for him, and it looked like it was breaking his heart. As it was mine. Here is a man who was always active, always doing something, always helping out his friends and family. And to have something, anything, causing him to sit it out, it was frustrating the hell out of him.

This latest round of aggressive chemo had taken a lot out of him. I sat beside him as he stretched out on the couch. I shook his hand at first, noticing his hands were swollen due to the treatment. He was so glad to see me, even though he called me by my brother's name more than one time.

After dinner, it was time for poker - No Limit, Winner-Take-All Texas Hold 'Em. There were two tables, eight to a table, and the top four from each table would play in a championship. At least I wasn't the first to lose, but I was second only to my sixteen-year-old-cousin James. So, I went into the living room to watch TV with Papa while he drifted in and out of sleep. I forgot how loudly that man can snore. It sounded like a jet engine running out of gas.

I woke up this morning to the smell of sausage and eggs on the griddle. Nana was getting breakfast together. I helped her out by fixing coffee and getting the biscuits out of the oven. My aunt Betty showed up with groceries from the Wal-Mart SuperCenter and completely restocked the pantry. We all sat down for breakfast, and it was pretty funny hearing Nana offer me more and more food because she still thinks I'm a growing boy when I'm six foot two, 250 pounds, and twenty-seven years old. All the while, we let Papa sleep in. Again, it wasn't the same without him.

Because of all that food, I was still full when I met Nicky for lunch. We talked for about an hour and a half. For once we talked about him almost all the time. He's been having trouble with his new boyfriend, Charles. Most of the trouble stems from the fact that Charles is still in the closet, and that any time they get together, it's only at Nicky's house or at the local gay bar. Nicky is paranoid that maybe Charles is hiding something, or is ashamed of their relationship. My heart goes out to the guy. He was on the verge of tears.

He had to go to work, so we said our goodbyes and I headed down the street to the internet cafe to update the blog. This afternoon, Nana wants to go to the mall for some shopping.