deference

My grandfather was a good man. He created my mom and she loved him. He was a sergeant fighting for his duty. He made sure that all his children had the best private education available. My mom was picked up every day on an army Jeep from school. She remembers the bumpy ride.

My grandfather smoke and drank too much. So much that I barely remember him alive. He was a vegetable for the rest. My mom cried when her father died. He was buried in a rich plot he had bought for him and my grandmother so they would always be together. She cried as well. We paid our respects, varying degrees of deference, to him with our backs turned as he was lowered. I remember the clean cut grass along the graves.

I rarely drink, except on fine occasions. I have no tolerance and don't plan to gain one. I never smoke because I condemn it. What others do is not my responsibility but I understand. For me, I tell myself I can prevent being bedridden to a nurse, who has to empty my bed pan every time I defecate. I think that this simple action of not participating will keep me alive, really alive so my grandchildren remember me. It may not, but I can't risk taking that chance.