For a time, it seemed like the sweetest dream would go on forever. But reality took a bite out of life eventually, inevitably, and Charlie Bucket, once the boy who won the greatest chocolate factory in the world, was no longer a boy, but a growing young man. He was keen, intelligent, tutored by the sharpest, shrewdest minds Willy Wonka would deem fit to hire. He was never out of ideas, for, in that factory that came to be his home, he was never out of inspiration and love. Unfortunately, though well he knew that the love of his family would be in his heart forever, he also knew that their lives could not live on as long as their blessed warm hearts.
The first to leave them was Grandpa George. It wasn’t so hard, really, because reality had been the family’s companion ever since they were poor, which was ever since Charlie could remember. And reality taught him well and early that death was not what man ought to give the most grief over, it was life lived in impunity and avarice and selfishness. And Charlie knew that his family would be alright, because in their minds Grandpa George was at peace, and this is what set his heart to rest.
The next to go was, unsurprisingly, Grandma Georgina, who only upon her husband’s death showed once more signs of frailty. She was a strong woman by nature, “head-strong” as he would hear his father mutter on the rarest occasions, but she was aging too, and, as she herself declared that gloomy dinner after Grandpa George was buried, “It shan’t be the same no longer, having no one to warm your bed beside you.” Mercifully, she died in bed one night not a year after her husband had left her, with her arms stretched toward his empty side.
Grandma Josephine was quiet for a few years following the death of Grandma Georgina. She was not acting strange at all; she did her usual things, and was as helpful as she always was to Charlie’s mother, when the ague failed to catch up to her bones on summer days. But she was quiet, and at first this disturbed her son, Charlie’s father, for some time. But then, when the family finally accepted that Grandma Josephine had gone mum, and Mr. Wonka had even proclaimed one dinner that she was thankfully neither deaf nor blind and appeared tough as string to him, Grandma Josephine looked up, just briefly, and then her face plummeted to the dinner pudding. Grandpa Joe and Charlie had to help Mrs. Bucket to her room because she fainted, and Mr. Wonka and Mr. Bucket lifted Grandma Josephine to the grandparents’ bed, cleaned her up, and then cleared the dinner table. An Oompa-Loompa physician, who happened to be the best in the whole tribe, was summoned to the cottage, and the doctor declared that Charlie’s sole surviving grandmother had slipped into a coma, a very deep sleep, from which she might wake up, or never at all. Charlie Bucket surprised himself by knowing, quite instinctively, that Grandma Josephine would not wake up anymore. He did not feel any remorse for this, he knew in his heart that she was as content as an old grandmother could ever be, and for death to come in her sleep was a great mercy. While the Oompa-Loompa doctor discussed his prognosis to Charlie’s parents however, Charlie watched Grandpa Joe very closely.
For the third time, there was a funeral in his family. Until his wife was buried, Grandpa Joe seemed just fine, if a bit subdued. But for a whole week after that, he was totally inconsolable. His silence haunted the cottage, and was unlike Grandma Josephine, who remained a comfortable presence despite her deliberate silence. For most of the days for the rest of his life, Grandpa Joe shunned the dinner table, shunned the cottage even, and indeed, shunned the Wonka Factory at large. Charlie saw him often rise up mighty early in the morning, put on his coat and boots, and walk out the factory gates. He would come back late at night, after walking through the city and back all day long, but not one breath would betray his weariness. Charlie could not understand at first, he wondered what could possibly sustain an old man through an incredibly long walk without proper food and warmth. It took him one night to understand, when Mr. Wonka stayed long after dinner and talked of idle things with his father over hot butterscotch over by the porch. They thought everybody else was asleep of course, but Charlie was a light sleeper, and the sound of their voices, which carried to his loft quite clearly, woke him up.
“He is old and alone, Mr. Bucket. Let him do what he wants.”
“He may be very old, but he’s not alone. He’s got a home and a family, Willy, and I can’t understand why he goes out every single day to walk those cold streets.”
“He goes to remember.”
“Well, I wish he’d remember us, too. We’re worried sick, and I know you enough now Willy to say that you’re worried about him too.”
There was a long pause after this, and Charlie thought that the conversation had already ended. But then, Willy Wonka spoke, though Charlie had to strain his ears for he said it very softly,
“It’s good to see you care so much for your father, Mr. Bucket. But you of all must remember, loving often also means letting go.”
Grandpa Joe passed away not long before Charlie’s thirteenth birthday. How Charlie wished that Grandpa Joe had lived to see his birthday. It was, and remains, his one special day, and Grandpa Joe had been the one person in the whole wide world to make it even more special, because on every birthday that Charlie could remember, Grandpa Joe was the one who gave young Charlie Bucket the warmest, most radiant, most loving smile in the whole world. And it was sad that he won’t be seeing that smile anymore, not in anywhere but his heart. It was the one time Charlie actually even thought of borrowing Mr. Wonka’s elevator to go to Minus Land, and maybe look for his grandfather’s soul. He was positively sure it was floating around there somewhere, and if it isn’t there, then it must definitely be somewhere else, and Charlie would definitely find him, for Mr. Willy Wonka and his Chocolate Factory had taught Charlie Bucket that nothing in the whole wide world was impossible, and that included outer space. Perhaps if Grandpa Joe’s soul was floating in space somewhere, why Charlie Bucket would rescue him, most especially right before he’d be gobbled up by those nastiest of aliens, the Knids!
It was when Willy Wonka found Charlie Bucket sneaking into the Great Glass Elevator one night that it dawned on Charlie the possibility that Grandpa Joe might no longer be able to return to life. His visions of a smiling grandpa faded when Mr. Wonka put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and silently led him away from the elevator. “You know,” he said, as casually as if he were talking about everlasting gobstoppers or his hair cream, “I always thought Grandpa Joe was the best grandfather anyone could ever have in the world. I would have liked it very much if he was my grandfather, really really.” “He was your Grandpa Joe too, and that makes him your grandfather, because you’re family, Mr. Wonka,” replied Charlie. Charlie would have wanted to see his face then, to know that there was still hope, because anything was most definitely possible for Willy Wonka. But Willy Wonka’s face was turned away, he was looking at some Oompa-Loompas mowing the grass on the factory’s garden, although Charlie had the distinct feeling that Mr. Wonka was actually looking at something else, something far off and unseen. And then, Mr. Wonka had said, though more to himself, it seemed, than to young Charlie, “So maybe that’s why he’s in heaven now.” And this, above all, was what crashed Charlie’s hopes, and he knew that his grandparents were all dead at last and, as Grandma Georgina once said, “It shan’t be the same no longer.”
When Mr. Wonka and Charlie arrived at the Bucket house, Mr. Bucket met them at the door. An odd look passed between the two grown men, and then Charlie witnessed the gradual change in Mr. Bucket’s face as understanding, mysterious to Charlie at the time, dawned on him. It came as a complete surprise when, next thing he knew, Charlie Bucket was enveloped in the fiercest hug he had ever received in his life so far.
Perhaps the sweetest dream is over,
But there are yet many joys to discover.
The days may be short but the sun’s never truly gone,
For life is never truly lived till it’s well and done.
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