Something about this time of year
has me feeling down
even as the sun comes out
and burns so brightly.
I guess I just hate my birthday.

I don't care about getting older,
about being a year closer to death;
death can come at any time anyway.
I hate the way time advances
and never flows backwards.

My grandfather and I
shared the same birthday.
We'd call each other up
and wish each other a "happy turkey day"
(the both of us being "turkeys").

We spent a lot of time together
after mom died.
Talked about life and philosophy
almost every day
over fish and chips.

He taught me so much
that I wanted to learn
like how to calmly analyze
and keep a level head
unlike my hot-headed father.

More than anything, he just wanted to play
with his only son and grandson,
his only child and grandchild.
I only wish
we could've played for longer.

He babysat 14 year old me,
though I hardly needed it.
We played Quake and I beat him
20 to 0 with just the gauntlet.
He didn't seem to mind.

One New Year's eve, we played Mario Party
on the old N64 in Granny's basement.
I'm sure I won, but all I remember is saying,
"Happy New Year, sir," at midnight
and him repeating the phrase back to me.

Christmas a few years later, we played chess
and I beat him, but shouldn't have.
He plays better than that. It was the meds.
I never did beat him at his best.
I never played chess with him again.

We played poker, though. Hold 'em.
First time we did, he wagered a chip set
he himself had won in a poker game.
And I won it off him because
of what he taught me.

Calmly analyze. Dad's aggressive,
prone to tilt. Lora calls on anything,
barely knows what's going on. Gramps
was just a bully. Pretending to have nothing
that's my favorite bluff.

Last time we played, we used the same deck
we'd been using for months. I dealt a royal flush to everyone. It's tatted on my shoulder.
Spades, fanned out, with a ribbon around it
bearing one of his favorite sayings:

"Learn to play with what you've got
and we'll give you better."
A frequent response to my father
ranting about his cards
that always made me smile.

Dad and I fished Gramps out of a bush
one winter. He came home and fell into it
after a night at the bar. He drank so heavily
because of how much pain he was in.
His spine was eroding away.

Not sure how many times we helped him up.
He left holes in the drywall, broke
his toes and his arm never healed right.
He wanted to spend time with us,
but hated being such a burden.

I was getting ready one night, had
the chip set on the table, ready to head over.
Got a call from Lora saying that he was gone.
Dad found him on the floor next to his chair.
Frozen. Cashed out.

When we went through his things,
we found a Yu-Gi-Oh deck he made,
which was terrible, really.
Dad and I never did play with him;
I don't even remember him asking.

We also found a copy of Pokémon Yellow
he'd apparently played to death.
We never played that with him either.
Told dad not to turn it off
so I could take a picture.

But he didn't hear me.
I wanted to take a picture of his team.
We didn't even turn it on again
for fear of hurting it somehow
told him I'd get the data off it.

Bought a homebrew adapter
made for that purpose. But it wasn't there.
Internal battery ran dry. Save corrupted.
I took the game apart and replaced it, but
couldn't bring Gramps back to life.

Behind Gramps' desk downstairs,
we found a poem stuck to the wall.
"Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
I didn't know he liked poetry.

He stomped the fire out
with a fistful of painkillers
and a fifth of Southern Comfort.
I still have the bottle in my dresser drawer.
It's still empty.

Dad was angry when we figured it out.
Granny and I wished we could've been there
so he wouldn't have been alone at the end.
But not one of us
blamed him.

Gramps said he liked the idea
of an afterlife where he could hunt and fish
as much as he wanted.
If I could choose, I'd want an afterlife
where I could play chess with my him again.

"Of course they blew out all the candles!
They're both fulla hot air!" dad would say when we blew out our candles
together.
I'm not sure what Gramps ever wished for.

When I see my birthday cake, covered in
burning candles, I'm reminded of all those
left behind, the smothered flames.
And I know that my wish
will never come true.

So I've taken to wishing things for others,
hoping that they can find happiness
in a way I just can't seem to.
Not because of what I've lost, but because
I'm not so damn miserable in the first place.

I don't get that mad at my cards.
I'm basically satisfied with my life.
It's hard to upset me. I am in control
of myself and nothing else.
Gramps taught me that.

What should I wish for then?
Should I wish for something for the friends
I left behind, even though they were family?
The ones I realized I couldn't stand and figured they'd be better off without me?

I wish for Lance's baby girl to grow up
and find happiness despite her father's
constant whining and self-pity.
I wish for Steve to find love
despite what a petty dumbass he is.

I wish for the love of my life
to find herself and to find
the love of her own life,
and to hold and love him
until the sun goes out.

I wish I could burn brighter
than all the stars in the sky.



© Little Devil