September 16, 2010
Unfinished
This morning, the phone rang at 6:11 a.m. I was in a deep sleep and the ringing jarred me awake and scared the living daylights out of me. I told Mr. BBM to grab the phone and he handed it to me. On the other line was a recorded message from the superintendent. The high school and one elementary school had a power grid failure. School was cancelled for those two schools only. I listened to the message and tried to calm my pounding heart. This wasn't anything awful. I could relax.
But I didn't.
The last time I got a call that early in the morning, it was on April 26, 2010. It was my Mom on the line, telling me the hospital had just called her. The time was now. My Grammom, after being put on hospice care and spending eight days in the hospital after a severe and catastrophic stroke, was dying. It was a phone call that set in motion the very early beginning to a horrible day. It was followed by a frantic drive to the hospital, only to find that I was the first to arrive, and I was too late. That was all I could think of this morning as I tried to go back to sleep.
The memories of that day are everywhere and time, so far, hasn't made it much better. The void that she has left is massive. It's like a crater in my chest and it is always there. It's the wind-knocked-out-of-you feeling after someone has sucker punched you in the gut. It's there when I'm in the car and the song comes on the radio that accompanied me on my drive to the hospital that horrible morning. It's there when I look at the two bags of inherited things I have from her, the ones that I can't bring myself to go through yet. It's there in the purse she gave my girls, full of coins she thought the girls would find interesting. It's there every time I drive by the hospital (which I almost always avoid), and every time I pass the cemetery on my way to somewhere else.
Yesterday I was at physical therapy and one of the PTs was talking about how all five his daughter's grandparents showed up at her school for Grandparent's Day. I smiled as I overheard him talking, and then it hit me that I have no grandmothers anymore.
Not one.
I have one grandfather left and I barely see him. Since my Grammom died, he's too busy to come see us. He spends his days running unnecessary errands, letting the food we bring him rot in the refrigerator, and discussing his life with the bartenders he sees daily. It makes it even harder, because if the situation were reversed and he was gone, she would be with us all the time. Family was everything to her.
Last night, after having a miserable day, I sat down to start crocheting some baby things for a friend. I learned how to crochet from my Grammom. She taught me how to chain stitch and I would create chains of 100s of stitches in a row that never turned into anything. After teaching myself all over again how to do it, because it has been years since I've crocheted anything, I got busy working on a little hat and by the fourth row my fingers were hurting. I thought about how she used to complain that her fingers hurt so badly from her arthritis, and about how her house contains a hamper full of unfinished blanket projects she never got around to finishing.
I've decided that there is no finishing of the grieving process when you love and miss someone as much as I miss her. With things as crazy as they've been, I could really use my biggest cheerleader. I miss her so much at times, that it is physically painful. And I just don't see that ever getting better.
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Grieving never does end…but it does get more manageable more consistently. I promise…
Grief really is such a fascinating thing. How it just comes in waves, sometimes when we least expect it.
I have not grandmothers left anymore too. My last grandmother who died was really good at self defense, she was the one who taught me how I can defend myself. Of course, It’s not really complete lessons but at least she ignited my interest in it. This is the reason why I am still taking self defense classes now. For the memory of my grandmother.
In March it will be 15 years since my grandmother passed. I still cry at her grave. I still cry when I think of how unfair it is that my kids will never know her. Easier? No. Numb? Maybe that’s a better word. It gets to a point where other things stick in your mind and you only think of that person only so often. But that sting of their absence, that pain at the loss of them….isn’t that speaking volumes of what an impact they left while here?
*hugs* The pain spreads out and becomes bearable.
Grief never goes away, it’s just easier to manage.
My grandpa died 7 years ago. He’d always been a ‘bull’ of a man, and he “went” in 4 days. We were shocked. He’s been like a father to me, so this really hit me. I failed all my exams that semester (was in college), was able just to go to my karate classes. It helped a lot, since my sensei and friends were very supportive.
It’s been 7 years and the pain is still there. Of course it’s less difficult to breath through it, but it never really goes away. Still, I am happy he was once in my life and that he taught me so many wonderful things.
You’ll eventually feel better in time. Just remember the nice things the loved ones left in your life and share everything with the generation to come 😉
Aw. Wish I could say something that would help. Strangely, this morning as I reached for some form of slippers to put on my feet, and I grabbed the moccasins that a friend gave me 25 years ago. They are not pretty, but when I put them on, I think of my Gram. She wore mocs because they were flat and would not hamper the leg she had to drag when walking.
It’s been 9 years, and sometimes…My Gramp became sort of a recluse himself. Not going out to eat anymore, or anything. He just stayed in. Now, He really cannot go out, as his memory fades and his walking difficult. He is as happy as any 97 year old could be…but he often says that “The golden years are not really golden…it gets more gray every day.”
I still have one more Gram, but she has trouble speaking now, too. I can’t call her but I send photos and cards that she can see and read. Getting to be their age is tough, but men have a harder time being alone than women do. Keep reaching out, hopefully, he’ll come back.