The date was May 9, 1974. It was a day that would forever be burned in my memory. I was 8 years old at the time and was spending the day with my favorite person, my Grandpa. Grandpa had been a cook in the army throughout his younger years. But, in 1974 he was working at the local restaurant as a fry cook.
His full name was Richard Thomason Grant, but everyone in town knew him as Thomas. I was lucky enough to know him as Grandpa. While he may not have led a glamorous life, he led one that was full of love and happiness. May 9 was a special day, but I didn't know it at the time. As it would turn out, it was to be the last day that I saw my Grandpa alive.
As a kid, you don't think of these things. Instead, I watched anxiously from my perch on the barstool as he expertly prepared the best milkshake west of the Mississippi. My mouth was on the straw the moment that it was in front of me, and Grandpa smiled as he watched me slurp down the sweet goodness.
The memory of that smile has been something that I have never forgotten. Today, I stand outside that same restaurant, saddened by its dilapidated state. The bright blue paint that had twinkled in the sun years ago now sat in front of me dull and lifeless. I remember smiling at the people through the windows as a kid, but now the windows stared back at me in darkness.
It had been years since I had returned to my hometown, but when my father had broken his legs and needed help getting around with his crutches, I jumped on the plane and rushed to his side. I had driven by the restaurant on my way into town and couldn't resist the urge to make a visit.
As I approached, I glared at the graffiti that had been painted on the front door. The glass in the windows had likely been broken by the same vandals. Dirt and debris littered the black and white floor that Grandpa had spent hours sweeping and mopping during his time.
Inside, all was quiet. The only sound that reached my ears was the sound of my feet crunching on the glass that remained on the floor. While slowly looking around, I swept off a seat of one of the booths near the door. I was sad to see that the leather looked worn and a huge cut had been made in the cushion.
Suddenly, something caught my attention. It was as if a shadow had passed in front of the door to the kitchen. I rose to my feet and cautiously stuck my head through the doorway. Nothing seemed out of place, so I turned my attention back to the main dining area.
My eyes traveled across the room and finally came to rest on the bar in front of the milkshake machine. I was surprised to find that the machine was still in the same place that I remembered it. It was also curiously clean. I stepped behind the counter to examine it and suddenly realized that a cup was sitting on the bar beside me.
Confused, I picked up the cup. It was clean, and I didn't remember seeing it when I came in. Looking around the room, I still saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging, I sat the cup next to the milkshake machine and took a seat at the bar. I smiled, remembering the last time that I had been in this restaurant.
That smile suddenly turned to surprise as I realized that the cup had been moved into the milkshake machine. I jumped up, and the barstool fell to the floor behind me. The noise was enough to wake the dead, and I yelled in surprise. When my heart stopped racing, I turned my attention back to the milkshake machine only to realize that the cup had now been placed in front of me on the bar.
Inside, the cup now held what appeared to be a chocolate milkshake! Fearing that I was losing my mind, I sat the barstool back up and sat down to catch my breath. Timidly, I placed my hands around the cup and pulled it closer to me. The smell was just as I had remembered, and for some reason, I couldn't stop myself from taking a drink of the refreshing beverage.
I closed my eyes in delight as I realized that this was the exact milkshake that my Grandpa had made for the 20 years he had worked in the restaurant. I could almost feel his gaze watching me as I happily drank the milkshake.
Outside, the sun began to drop in the sky, and I knew that it was time to get dinner for my dad. Just as I would when I was a kid, I picked up the cup and placed it in the sink in the kitchen. As I left, I smiled back at the restaurant and closed the door behind me. I couldn't resist looking back at the restaurant one last time as I got in my car.
Even though I had shut the front door, it was standing open, and I saw the image of my Grandpa standing in the opening. Behind him, the restaurant appeared just as it had in the old days, full of life and joy. Surprised, I took a step toward him, but he smiled and shook his head. With a friendly wave, he stepped inside the restaurant and returned to the memory of my heart, mind and soul.Â