My grandpa owns a tavern. Did I ever tell you that? In a few weeks it is closing and is probably going to end up being something really depressing…like a Baby Gap. Or perhaps someone will think it is a tribute to this town–the way keeps changing.
I used to go there when I was little and sneak behind the counter and grandpa would lift me up, my eyes peering into the candy drawer, and I would pick a Clark Bar every time. Last weekend I went to that bar and had my first ever drink within its walls. It is also my last ever. And despite all the familiar faces and smiles I was overcome by sadness.
I don’t think about John everyday. But I think about him often. My Uncle John passed away unexpectedly a number of years ago, but despite his death he was there. Despite our aching hearts he was there as if he’d never left his place behind that counter.
“You never get over it.
You just get used to the idea.”