Thursday, July 19, 2012

As We Sit Alone I Know Someday We Must Go

I believe that people do what they think is best... love the best they can.

I didn't have a spectacular relationship with my grandma. She didn't tech me to sew. Or cook, or garden. We didn't take nature walks, didn't play dress up. At most, she'd hand me a discarded pile of used copy paper and a tin box of blunt crayons.

She did share her secret stash of chocolate chip ice milk, still perfectly squared in a specially-designed tupperwear ice cream container.

And she did have the priest re-bless me every time I stepped foot in her Catholic Church.

My grandma passed away last week, and we buried her on Tuesday. It's been a roller coast of emotions: happy she lived a long life able to watch her nine children and 21 grandchildren grow; heartbroken that she (and I) lost my mom at such a very young age (I was four, my mom 28); sad to be reminded, in pictures, of what an awesome person my grandfather was.


And I'm... mourning. Mourning what was, what could have been; how it all could have played out so drastically different. And I'm not dumb, I know looking at me was painful - oh, so painful - for her, to see her daughter in me and not have her around. No parent should ever experience the loss of a child.

Maybe. How I've hung so many of my life experiences and broken relationships on that little wishful word.

Despite how much I wish everything could have been different, I'm grateful for the time I got to spend with my grandma in this short, short lifetime.

5 comments:

Sarah Jackson said...

I love you, lady. I'm so sorry about your grandma - mainly because of the loss you had in not really having the relationship you needed with her. Sending you peace, friend.

Nikki McDonald said...

So sorry, Laura. I wish I had more adequate words, but they're failing me. :(

Leah said...

I'm sorry to read this - that's so hard for you and her too. Thinking of you.

Sarah said...

I'm so sorry, Laura.

amy h said...

I'm sorry to hear this, Laura -- both that you lost her and that you had already sort of lost her in a different way.