Monday, October 19, 2015

Word: Mawkish





mawkish

[maw-kish]

adjective
1. characterized by sickly sentimentality; weakly emotional; maudlin.
2. having a mildly sickening flavor; slightly nauseating.

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“Jerry, go to your grandma.”  Said the teen’s dad.  Jerry let out a long, slow breath in response to the order.
                “Do I have to, dad?” Jerry asked.
                “Yes, you do.  Right now just being with her and listening to her is the best thing you can do.”
                Jerry groaned lightly as he stood and made his way over to his grandmother.  He knew he shouldn’t complain.  He knew he should be willing to comfort her without having to be asked.  He knew a lot of things about the moment.  But right then, none of it seemed to matter much.  He would rather have been playing something one his phone than anything else.
                He trudged through the house, ducking passed quietly talking relatives until he found his grandma, sitting alone on the couch.  The elderly woman sat looking at an old photo album.  She was almost motionless as she looked at the pages.  Occasionally, she would raise her thick glasses and wipe her eyes, and every so often she would flip to another page.  But other than that, there was little movement on her part.
                Jerry sat down next to her and glanced at the pages.  It was an album he had seen dozens of times before.  As a child, he loved listening to the stories of the past the old, worn pictures prompted.  Now the he had heard them all a hundred times they had lost just about all of their impact though. 
                “Grandma?” Jerry said when she didn’t react to his presence.  Her head shot up in surprise and she looked over at him.
                “Oh Jeremy, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” She said with a weak, sad smile.
                “It’s okay grandma.”  Jerry said.  “Are you okay though?”
                “Oh, yes, yes.  I’ll be all right.  It’s just…well, you know what.” 
                He could imagine.  He had only known grandpa for the 16 years he had been alive.  Grandma had known him for at least the 57 years they had been married, and even several years before that.  He had certainly not been happy when grandpa left, so he could only imagine how she felt.
                “Yeah, I know.”  He thought of the best thing he could do to cheer her up.  One look at the album, and he knew what he had to do.  He didn’t like it, but he could at least tolerate it.  “So, um, that’s grandpa’s favorite photo album, right?” 
                “Oh, this?  Yes, he did love this one, didn’t he?  He was quite the sentimentalist, you know.”  Grandma said.  Jerry stifled a laugh.  Grandpa may have liked to tell stories, but Grandma was the really sentimental one.  It was almost nauseating how much she loved that sort of thing.  At least it was for him.  “In fact, this one right here was his absolute favorite.”  She continued, pointing at one of the photos.  “Did he ever tell you about this one?  Oh, I’m sure he must have at least once.”
                “I guess he might have mentioned it once or twice.”  Jerry said.  The photo was one of Grandpa, his friends, and Jerry’s dad as a boy.  They all stood in front of a tree that was small back then.  The tree was, of course, quite a bit bigger now.  “But it’s been awhile.”  He said.
                “Well then, why don’t I refresh your memory a bit.”  She said. 
                Grandma looked almost happy as she told the story that Jerry had heard so many times before.  He did his best to look interested.  Besides, it was clear she wasn’t telling the story for his sake.  It wasn’t long before her words began to stutter and tears welled up in her eyes.  A few seconds after that, she was full on crying.
                Jerry placed his hands on the thin shoulders of his grandmother.  She stifled her tears to look at him.  She didn’t last long before they started flowing again.  It was several minutes before she regained any amount of composure.
                “I…I’m sorry Jeremy.  It’s just that you look so much like him when he was your age, you know that?”
                Looking like Grandpa was certainly new.  He had been told he looked like his dad more often than he’d like, but not really Grandpa.
                “Just you being here reminds me of so much from so long ago.”  She continued.  Her eyes seemed to glaze over and her trembling fingers ran over the pages of the album.
                “Grandma?  Are you sure you’re okay?”
                “I…I will, be yes.  It might take a little while, but I’ll be all right.”
                “Do you want me to go?”  He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it that part of him was hoping she would say no.
                “If it’s all the same, I think I would like your company right now, actually.”  Grandma said. 
She placed hand gently over his and gave him another weak, sad smile.  She leaned on his shoulders and it wasn’t long before tears started flowing again.  As Jerry lightly rubbed her back, he thought a bit.  He came to the conclusion that he could deal with not playing a game for a few minutes longer.  
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Hm, you know, I'm not really sure this is quite the intended meaning of this word.  Reading the definition again, it looks like it's referring to something a little less...justified.  You know, like those people who go to pieces at the slightest showing of emotion or sentimentality.  Not, you know, a woman losing her husband after almost 60 years of marriage.  Oh well, this is what I went with, take it or leave it.  I'm too lazy to change it right now. 

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