“I Love You, My Lily”
     I remember the silent drive to your house. You lived in the middle of nowhere, which was strange for the part of Michigan you lived in. My dad was explaining to me not to disagree with you or be rude. He told me about Alzheimer’s, which I barely understood since I was only 9, almost 10.
     I wasn’t prepared to see you, my great uncle. So for most of the drive I tried to remember you. I closed my eyes and rolled down the window, trying to remember. There were blurry images of a happy man with a crooked smile and glasses perched on his nose. A deep, throaty laugh to go with a loud personality. I thought that was what I would be greeted with when I arrived at your house. However, I was greeted by a rude awakening.
     When we pulled up to your house on the lake I stepped out with my dad. You were already wobbling down the porch, the same old dopey smile on your wrinkly face. I was speechless, since the last time I had seen you had been when I was 5. I let out shaky breathes and forced a smile. The wind seemed like it could knock you over as you got closer.
     “Gotowe na ryby?” you asked excitedly, speaking in Polish. I had yet to learn how to speak polish so I had no idea what you were saying to me. I learned later from my dad that you had said ‘ready to fish?’. You wrapped your arms around me and I lightly hugged back. You seemed so fragile and small; I didn’t want to see you break like a vase. I tried desperately to remember yet again the jolly fat man who played Santa every Christmas when I was 5. He was gone, however, and in his place was a sack of skin and bones. I didn’t know what a stroke and Alzheimer’s could do to a person at the time.
     We fished on the large canal behind your house that led to the ocean. You spoke of things I didn’t understand. You didn’t know who was in office, and you forgot the year more than twice. I didn’t correct you ever when you said the wrong thing, that was my dad’s job. I just sat there, barely watching my fishing pole as I stared into the dark waters. Every few seconds I’d see something move beneath the surface. I knew there were fish under the surface; I just wasn’t able to catch them. I wondered if that was how you felt with your memory. There were so many thoughts in your head, you just weren’t able to catch them and remember.
     It was all fine till my dad left, that’s when things became even more confusing for the young me. The pizza run my dad left for was taking awfully long, and you kept mistaking my name and age. Eventually I gave up on trying to have a conversation with you so I can up with the clever excuse to go to the bathroom. It seemed like my only escape from the confusion I was feeling. You called it ‘nocnik’, which means potty in Polish. At the time I thought it was only gibberish.
     As I entered your house the fear in my chest seemed to grow. The interior of the house looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. I walked past the bathroom, which I remember smelled of lilacs and vinegar. The smell was more soothing then pungent. I entered the kitchen which was in even worse state. It contained only a table with one chair, an old stove, and a refrigerator. I climbed the stairs that led from the kitchen to the bedrooms, my hand trailing on the dusty stair rail. The stairs creaked under my feet, but I kept going. I glanced back once before turning down the hall leading to the rooms.
     I found your bedroom first, since it was the first door in the hallway. I opened the creaky door and peaked inside to reveal a rather dull room. The bed wasn’t made and there were many bottles of pills sitting beside your bed. I left that room and continued to the next. I knew it was rude to leave you outside, but the smell of moth balls and creaking floors compelled me instead of repelled me.
     The next room in the hall surprised me, and I thank god every day I entered it. It was painted a pale rose pink, which matched the floral bedspread and wood floors. Nothing in the room seemed to have ever been moved, but there wasn’t a speck of dust. There were black and white pictures, faded with time, sitting on the vanity in front of the bed. A jewelry box with exquisite designs on the side sat in the middle of all of the letters, notebooks, and papers. I wanted desperately to open and read the old writings, but the hand writing was so scratchy I knew it would take me forever to decipher. So instead, I examined the pictures. There was a young man in most them, smiling or working. But then I saw her. She was with you; I knew it was you because of the nose. You looked so happy, and I recognized the jolly smile on your face. There were pictures of you and her dancing and laughing. I picked up one of the few pictures of her alone. She was beautiful, I could tell even with the picture faded brown. Her hair framed her soft features perfectly with curls. Her smile was wide and her eyes crinkled. She was indeed, beautiful.
     “Lilia,” your voice made me jump and drop the picture on the rug. I fell to my knees to pick it up and make sure the frame wasn’t broken. You were stepping into the room already, your footsteps light on the carpeted floor. You smiled at the pictures and keepsakes on the dresser. You sat on the bed, digging into your pocket. I was busily arranging the pictures to how they had been before you entered. I was almost finished when you tapped me. I turned and looked at what you were holding for me to look at, a folded up picture of you in a uniform and the girl.
     “Lilia… Lily. She was my love in Poland,” you said as I took the picture gently to see it b etter. You didn’t give me time to speak before you continued speaking. Your voice was struggling to keep steady as you spoke to me.
     “We were going to uh, come to America together. I loved her. I wanted to get married. But she insisted we could marry here,” you said, your accent getting in the way of your words. Every few seconds you’d stutter or move your hand in a frantic motion, but I managed to ignore that. I was still in amazement at you remembering her.
     “We were eighteen, but she insisted she stay in Poland till she insisted she stay in Poland till she was twenty. I had to go to America, so I promised to send for her… I wrote her every day till I was shipped to fight,” by now you were crying as you stared longingly at the pictures. I didn’t speak, I was too afraid to interrupt. You took a shaky breathe before continuing.
     “Poor Lilia… Lily. She died and I didn’t even know. I got back from the war and she was just… gone. I had gotten her a ring and home, but she never saw,” you weren’t sobbing as you spoke, but there were tears on your wrinkled cheeks. I reached up and touched the warm tears falling from my own eyes.
     “I couldn’t love anyone… my Lilia was my one,” you wiped the tears and sniffed once. I was amazed that after two strokes and your suffering with Alzheimer’s, you still remembered her. You were 96, after 79 years you still loved one girl. You never married nor had children you loved her so much. That amazed me, and it continues to till this day.
     The room was full of silence as we both thought silently to ourselves for a few seconds. I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my shirt before looking at you with red rimmed eyes. You looked up at me eventually, your face suddenly mixing up in confusion as you looked around the room. You looked at me with squinted eyes, as if you were thinking.
     “Why are we here?” you asked, your gaze traveling over the pictures. I shrugged and took one last look at everything. The papers and pictures. The jewelry and ticket stubs. I even smelled the air. It smelled like lilacs. You smelled like vinegar. It seemed to mix well, like you and lily.
     I stood in the doorway, waiting for you as you pushed off the bed. You folded up the picture of her neatly and put it in your pants pocket before turning to look at the pictures. You smiled at them, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you touched the one of her lovingly. For the first time that day I saw the man from when I was little. I saw the man Lily saw. I saw you.
     “Kocham Cie, moja Lilia,” you whispered to the picture before walking out of the room. I shut the door behind me, not once glancing back at the room. That was your and Lily’s special place, and it would always be. We met my dad outside and he smiled widely at us as he set the pizza boxes down on the picnic table in your large backyard.
     “Have fun?” he asked me as I sat at the table, lost in my own thoughts. I looked over to you, hoping silently maybe you would tell my dad too. You were already eating your pizza as if nothing had happened. I stared at you for a second without say a word before turning to my dad.
     “Dad? What does ‘co hem che, mo ah Lilia’ mea n?” I asked, trying to remember what you said to the picture. My dad looked at me, obviously confused as to why I was asking the question. I stared at him expectantly, wanting to know.
     “Kocham Cie, moja Lilia? I love you, my Lily?” my dad sounded so confused as he answered me, but I didn’t explain. I looked at you as you smiled while looking at the water, the same glint in your eye you had when thinking about Lily. I smiled too; deciding to keep the things you told me our little secret.
     I spent the rest of the day paying attention to everything you said, never wanting to miss a word. At the end of the day, as my dad and I got ready to leave, you held me tight. You smiled at me when you pulled away before taking my hand and closing my fingers around a gold necklace. I looked at the thin gold pendent with an engraving of Mary praying.
     “For you, Lilia would want you to,” you whispered to me. I could barely say thank you as I was rushed into the car. I waved as we drove off, and you waved back. The sun set behind you and I didn’t stop waving till you disappeared on the horizon. I didn’t know that was the last time I’d ever see you.
     Three months later, we got the call that you had died. My whole body felt frozen as I excused myself to leave for the restroom in the restaurant we were in. I clutched onto the sink, but did not cry. I found myself smiling as I clutched the necklace around my neck. The one you had given to me. You were back with Lily. And now you two could finally be together forever.