Note before you read: I wrote this piece as a submission to the Boston Globe Magazine, which publishes 650-word personal essays about relationships. Alas, no response. So I have published it here instead!
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“There you are!” My grandfather greets me over FaceTime with surprise. I have materialized in his kitchen, unannounced, for the first time ever. I give him a few seconds to absorb what’s happening, and for some reason he starts chuckling. I can feel myself smiling. “Pretty cool, right?” I say before asking him how he is handling life in lockdown.
Calling Grandad weekly has been a constant since I moved away to college in 2011, but only now have I thought to show myself during our calls. I no longer describe my surroundings to him – the subway trombones, the windy Brooklyn Bridge. Now, I flash the camera around the room to show him where I am. “This is the couch I always call you from,” I say. I share more tangible pieces of my life than at any point in the last nine years. We feel much more connected.
I was worried that isolation would be a challenge for my grandfather. He is in a similar situation to many of our nation’s elderly: a retirement community on complete lockdown. No visitors, no card games, no real community. He jokingly tells me of walks he is taking around his kitchen table, but the truth isn’t far off. He has nowhere to go. The last contact he had with family was when my aunt dropped off corned beef for his birthday in March. That’s for a guy who has standing plans with my parents, sister, aunt and uncle and former coworkers every single week. It’s quite an adjustment for an 89 year old.
FaceTime technology has been perfect. Compared to the rest of his gadgets, which require reset passwords and adjustments to new operating systems, video calls are beautifully simple. Just press the green button and voila – my face is projected back at him. For my grandfather, who is loathe to interrupt our “busy” lives with a phone call, it is even better because he is at the mercy of our schedules. I am not sure he could FaceTime me even if he wanted to.
The other day, Grandad answered my call shirtless, and it was my turn to smile and chuckle. We are very close, but not once in the last 26 years have I seen him shirtless. I don’t think I have even seen him in shorts! His unshaven face was grinning back at me, like usual. “You called right when I was getting dressed,” he said, and all I could think was how happy he was to have answered the call. If it meant doing away with some unnecessary formalities, than so be it.
At a time when many routines have been uprooted, and certainties thrown out the window, my grandfather and I feel closer than ever. I had always felt good about our phone calls, and their regularity, but with Grandad’s face now staring back at me I am forced to be much more present. We scroll through Netflix options together, and research gold coins. He sees the progress of my first ever beard and has a physical location in which to place me. We can see each other smiling.
At his age, I don’t think my grandfather is picky about how he sees his family. He just wants to see us. For me, in the absence of being physically close, our FaceTimes have been great. It can feel selfish to look for silver linings during a time when so many people are suffering, but in this instance I can’t help it.