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Local Journalism Initiative

Hugs, cars and cats: Muddling through the pandemic with my grandad

My grandad turns 93 last month But instead of giving him a hug, like we wish I could, we’ll talk on the phone, probably mostly about my car adventures and his cat.  When talking with my dad, grandad, a mechanic, would always ask for status updates about whatever used car my family had at the time.  I realize now those questions were never really about the car.  When he asked how the car was running, he was actually checking how we were. If a reply indicated things were not so good with the car, he could assess if we were worried about money or if this was one more weighty thing, so he could carry some of that worry, to share the load. He lives in Ireland, but he could do that from an ocean away. My grandad loves talking about his cat. When I’d ask, “how’s the cat?", it too became a litmus test. If he didn’t tell me the believed whereabouts of the cat or say, “Ah, he’s a grand cat” or something like it, I knew he was distracted, that something or someone was on his mind. My grandad really likes hugs, mine in particular, though not at all exclusively.  I last visited him in Bishopstown, his village in Ireland, in the summer of 2019. On one day during my visit, we were sitting on a swing bench in his garden. I was leaning on his shoulder, hugging him as he smoked his pipe and rocked the swing back and forth. The cat leapt onto the bench and joined in, settling at my feet.  I am slightly allergic to grandad's beloved cat, but I let this go. We talked, but only a little. Mostly, we just sat there for ages, rocking back and forth. And I remember thinking that this was perhaps the most calm I’ve ever been in my life. I gave my grandad a lot of hugs that visit. He liked when I took him tea and toast in the morning, and would sit beside him, giving hugs. On that visit I asked him “Grandad, does anyone else hug you like this?”  “No,” he said. All his children hug him when they visit, but the really big hugs are when they arrive or leave, he said. I know I'm less helpful around the house than my relatives, but I bring something different, something he needs and, as the pandemic's required distancing has shown, we all need. Hugs. My grandad and I have talked about hugs in quite a candid way this year. For six months - and like probably hundreds of thousands of other people if they were following health guidelines and lived alone - nobody hugged me. “This virus is a terrible thing,” my grandad has said more than once. I agree. He wondered when I might be able to travel to see him and all I could say was, “Soon, hopefully.” I was glad it wasn't a video call.  I told him I would go for a drive through the country, or to the sea, offering him a window into my life here, as he sits at home, unable to go to his favourite places. “And how’s your car?” I told him it's good. “Ah, that’s good,” he said. And in these moments, we have found ways to shClara Pasieka, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter, Telegraph-Journal

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2021-01-06 09:38:00Z
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