Stay afloat

After all, is that not what everybody tries to do?

The old, stately man stood in front of her, his eyes looking at her without really seeing her.
She knew that look. She knew that his mind was elsewhere, in a place where none could see him, but he could see everything.

He wouldn’t remain on this world for long. She knew that too. He still stood tall, he still spoke in a booming voice, but his hands shook and his eyes did not see much. The knowledge pained her, but pleased her too.

Her  grandfather had never fully lived in this world. His eyes had always been directed at the past. He had not been able to fully comprehend this world, and he looked to the past for explanations. He tried to live knowing that his life had been lived before, knowing that his words had been said before. He lived with the pain of his past, of their collective past, bearing upon him.

He did see joy in his world. His wife, his children, his friends; they all brought him pleasure. He saw his children grow, his grandchildren next, and she knew that he loved them all dearly.

But at night, he still saw the past.

He saw a history of hatred and abuse, a history of misguided righteousness. Centuries of pain, disgust, oppression, anger. He could not answer the biggest question of all �"why? �" or did he not want to answer it? Was he afraid to answer it?

This man, my grandfather, who has done nothing wrong in his life, bears the mistakes of so many others before him, others who have long gone.

But their memory remains, and �" is that what my grandfather is so afraid of? History repeats itself, after all. Has he been afraid, all of his life, of becoming one of those who disgusted him?

He never could. She knows that, and she knows that he knows it too.

Still the doubt lingers.

After all, who were those in the past but ordinary men, living in their day, trying to stay afloat?

Author's Note

A lot of this is my own thoughts and feelings. Please tell me your opinion.