Today we had lunch on Sanibel Island in a divey little fish shack. Our lunch date pointed across the street and said, “Ooooo look, a Dairy Queen!”
“Dairy Queen?” I giggled, “I didn’t even know Dairy Queen existed anymore.” Then I let out sort of a weird, guttural, internal giggle.
“What?” our date asked me.
“Oh…no, nothing,” I said, “it’s just that…well, when I was a kid my Grandpa used to lean over to me just before we were about to have dinner and he would point over at my Grandma and whisper…’Watch this.’ Then he’d yell out, ‘Hey Harriet, I’m going to take the kids to Dairy Queen now.’ And she would get so mad and say, ‘Oh, come on John! We’re just about to have dinner.’ He’d look back at me with the most pleased, mischievous giggle. He did this to her at least once every summer for years and she fell for it EVERY time. I mean, every time.”
At 10pm tonight my Grandpa passed away, just a month after his wife. Hospice told my Mom over the last couple of days he had been hallucinating and talking to my Grandma. My Mom asked what he had said, but they told her out of respect, they didn’t eavesdrop. They didn’t have to, I think I have a pretty good idea of what he might have said.