It's weird because sitting here thinking about him and the moments we shared i'm reminded of my childhood. Growing up, I saw him as a drunk who spent his days hanging out at the bar Boozers (named after the NY JETS player). Jimmy was the kind of drunk that would show up at my house sloppily professing his love and asking for a hug. I recall once balling up like a baby in the corner because I was scared of him. I'm sure his intentions were good, but in my young mind he was the boogey man....grandfather or not.
As the years went by, I began to acquiesce a bit and would visit him from time to time when I was in his neck of the woods. By this time, his jaw was removed and his words were quite difficult to decipher. I would sit with him and pretend I understood what he was saying, all the time counting down the minutes until it was an acceptable time to announce I had to go. He was always loving and appreciative of my visits. I on the other hand would try my hardest to muster up some semblance of warmth when in reality all i felt was a wave of distance. This man, whose DNA I shared was my grandfather but it felt like in name only as much as I "tried".
During the latter years of his life, my mom who didn't really have a relationship with him, began to make more of an effort. I know she and I shared similar feelings as it pertained to him but at the same time he was her father, my grandfather our family. So, during those times where she would visit NY I would occasionally go with her to see him. He was always super happy and excited to see us. There was so much said and unsaid in those visits yet and still he was just a man who happened to be my grandfather. It didn't help that I would sometimes harbor resentment towards him because he was the only living grandparent I had left. Why had my others passed away having not succumbed to alcohol, drugs or abandonment yet here he sat swinging his leg living life? The truth of the matter, as I would come to understand was that he wasn't living life, he was existing in this life.
Something tells me that my grandfather James Taylor had the same expectations many young people have. Who signs up for a life of living hard? Who signs up for a life where they have no relationship with most of their kids? Who signs up for a life that ends in the grips of Corona? Shit is wild. I suppose, in time I will find myself wishing I had asked more questions of him. Maybe as the days go by I will learn to appreciate him for who he was? Who knows maybe things will one day make sense. All I can say in this moment, at this time on the day of his passing is Rest In Peace James Taylor...Rest In Peace!