The average hospice stay is 20 days.  I’m old enough to have memorized that statistic.  When I heard my Grandfather was being checked into hospice, I still googled “average hospice stay.”  Some numbers you don’t forget.

• ’29: The year Joe Cernera was born in Brooklyn, NY
• 10: Number of siblings he had
• 16: The age he lied about when he enlisted into the Navy
• 5: Number of children he would have
• 11: Number of grandchildren
• 7: Number of great grandchildren
• 28: Different jobs
• 300: The perfect game he bowled
• 4 or maybe 6: How he kept score in golf

Numbers were important to Grandpa.  I can remember him casually telling me about how he used to “run the numbas” back in the day.  (read: help operate an illegal version of the lottery) And I witnessed him play Lotto everyday.  Every night, the second commercial break for Wheel of Fortune, 7:46 PM, the numbers were announced.  He would lean into the TV and tell me how he was ‘one off’ or how he used to play that number.  One night, I heard him yell “Son of a bitch! I got it!” and I ran downstairs to hear he had “hit his numbers” and won 500 dollars.  We celebrated with Taco Bell and a beer.

Living with Grandpa typically meant I had to eat at least 2 dinners.  Whatever I had planned on eating and whatever he had made.  He loved to cook and loved to cook for other people.  It was always simple and comforting and delicious.  We had 2 gardens when I lived there.  One for flowers and one for vegetables.  I remember you need both male and female zucchini plants in order to grow zucchini.  And that the male plants don’t grow zucchini, but that you could still eat the flowers.  Grandpa was showing me how to cook the flowers in a little flour and oil.  I remember how good it tasted.  But, I remember his face as he spit it out and how much we laughed when we realized there was a big bumble bee inside the closed flower.

“Too many to count” – The number of flowers at my Grandmother’s funeral.  My Grandma died when I was only 6 months old.  So, I don’t really remember her.  Grandpa didn’t talk about her often, but when he did his face would always glow.  He would always smile like he was about to share a secret and tell the briefest of stories.  One day, we were going through old records and he stopped on one and said “Josie used to love this one.” Another time it was us trying to remember if she was 16 or 17 when they got married.  And he tells me how beautiful she looked on the day they got married.  And he loved to tell the story of when she was older and in a wheelchair.  He was trimming the hedges and hit a beehive.  He sprinted away as the bees gave chase.  Leaving my Grandmother in her wheelchair right next to the beehive.  He would always laugh and shake his head at how all the bees left her alone.  Grandpa had his own rapport with the animal kingdom.

I was 17 the first time we went golfing together.  Just the two of us.  It was a small par 3, nine-hole course.  He was looking for his ball near a tree and a bluejay swooped down right at him.  Seeing his reaction as he first ducks and then counters with a swing of his 9 iron.  Then looks at me and starts laughing.  It’s the first time (and thankfully not the last) time I would see him belly laugh.  It was our first bonding moment.  We would retell the story many times.

8 years later was my favorite retelling.  Grandpa played golf weekly and had a regular foursome he played with.  I remember the first time they were missing someone and needed a fourth.  We had been living together for a while at this point and were close.  But, this was the first time I saw Grandpa with his friends.  There was no paternal undertone on this day.  We were there as friends.  It was like seeing your teacher at the beach.  I was in shock.  He was making dirty jokes, fucking with his friends, swearing.  Swag, he had swag.  I sat there in the cart and came to the realization, my Grandpa is cool as fuck!  I laughed and backed him up as he told a slightly exaggerated version of the infamous bluejay swoop.  Driving home and eating dinner I thought “It’s not so bad getting older.”

I’m eternally grateful for the time I had with my Grandfather.  He was known as Grandpa, Dad, PopPop, Joe and Joey.  To me, he was all of those things.  He was Grandpa and my best friend.  He taught me to laugh.  He showed me the importance of living the life you want.  And he passed his love across 4 generations.  I’m going to miss him.

I’m trying to think of his passing with happy tears.  I like to picture him flashing that knowing smile and walking into the next chapter.  To imagine his version of Heaven.   I imagine being reunited with him and it being just like that moment I saw him with his friends.  A secret revealed.

Surrounded by Love