November 25, 2010
Thanksgiving Minus One
Today was a good day, but it was also a tough one. I thought about it as soon as I woke up this morning. My Grammom is gone. This is the first Thanksgiving without her.
I figured that the first round of holidays without her would be difficult, and I was right. My sister made the Cope's corn that my Grammom always insisted on making. Grammom didn't like it baked, the easy way. She liked it soaked for hours in milk and then cooked on the stove top. When it arrived at our Thanksgiving get together, it was usually partially burnt and the casserole dish that housed that corn was overflowing with dried on liquid corn. It didn't matter that it was partially burnt. It always tasted amazing.
Today I tried to give my Pop-Pop some extra love. I knew he had to be feeling it as much as the rest of us were. When we finally sat around the table, my Dad decided to say the prayer. At one point, he stopped speaking and I snuck a peek at him. The words, already in his head, couldn't come out without hesitation and some choked up tears. He then asked God to continue to watch over my Grammom and said that one day we'd all be joining her. My Pop-Pop didn't cry. He just nodded. I know he'd like to join her as soon as possible. Knowing that makes it even harder.
Today, my Mom picked up the Grammom tradition and gave each of the women a bag of dish towels. Grammom never went anywhere without dish towels for everyone. That dish towel was yet another reminder that she is gone. I tried not to allow myself to think about it too much because I just got choked up and it made my throat hurt.
When we were getting ready to go today, I put a sweater and scarf on and my Grammom's watch. Sassy insisted on wearing a sweater and scarf too. She brought me the scarf she has from my Grammom and asked me to tie it around her neck. I asked her if she remembered where she got that scarf from and she said, "Yeah, it's Great Grammon's scarf." She's still so present in our house.
Last Christmas, I had to turn away to wipe tears as my Grammom handed present after present to my Mom. Each one seemed to stab me deeper. They were all her prized pictures of her Mother and Grandmother. They are family heirlooms and she wanted them to go to my Mom. She knew what was coming, despite the fact that she only started hospital admission after hospital admission after the holidays were over last year, before finally leaving us in April.
I know that Christmas is going to be even harder this year. It is so hard to keep her memory alive without letting it eat you up inside and out at the same time. I had a wonderful day today with my family, but I know we were all missing her terribly. It just wasn't quite the same without her.
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Tough, yes.
I used to know a pastor who once remarked that he’d done a lot of funerals, and that at one of them, a mourner had come up to him and remarked about how hard it was to deal with someone’s passing, even someone whose profession of faith in Christ was very clear, and everyone knew exactly where that person was. “How,” the mourner wanted to know, “do people deal with it when they don’t know where their loved one is?”
“They don’t deal with it very well,” was all the pastor could say.
I have kept that story in mind ever since. It is a terrible thing to leave a family behind without making it clear that you know in Whose hands your eternal destiny lies, and I have always encouraged people to let their relatives know.
Clearly, your grandmom did that for you. You have no doubts as to Whose fellowship she is enjoying right now, even though it’s painful for you to be apart from her. That’s a blessing; you know that someday, you will be reunited with her. Hard as it may be to focus on that at holiday time, it’s something to hold onto.
Blessings.
I’m sorry it was so tough for you. What a lucky woman she was to be loved so much by someone as special as you. And what a special woman she must have been to merit such love. Happy Thanksgiving. XOXO
I know what you mean – this is my first holiday without my Nana, too. ((hug))
On December 25, 2003, I wrote this in my blog. (My husband lost his father the previous Thanksgiving weekend. My daughter, at the time, was only seven years old):
The girls were pleased by what they found in their stockings and under the tree. (A sled! Cool! A sewing kit! Wow! A Christmas Carol, read by Jim Dale! Oh boy! A booklight so they can read their books when it’s dark in the car! Neat!) My haul was very modest: a yoga block, a book light, a purse calculator to replace the one I broke a couple of days ago when I fell at Southdale. (My laptop is really my birthday and Christmas present combined).
But the best present of all, I think, was one that Delia gave Rob, which I didn’t even know about. He unwrapped the flat package and found a piece of cardboard, covered with green construction paper, with a red contruction paper heart, carefully edged with braided yarn. On it, she had written in her wobbly second-grade printing:
Bob
Bob was my grandpa
a very good grandpa
I will keep him
in my
heart
let us remember
bob as a Dad
who never wanted to go and
he was first to go
let us say goodbye
when it is time
and it was time
Rob stared at it, and tears rolled down his cheeks. He handed it over to me, and I read it, and reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, honey,” Rob whispered to Delia.
After the presents were all unwrapped and the paper stashed in trashbags, I pulled Delia aside for a moment. “Did you think that up all yourself, honey?” I asked her in wonder.
She nodded.
I stared down at my little girl, with her wild blond hair, two front teeth missing, in her faded Mickey Mouse shirt, and I groped for the right words to say, to thank her. What incredible sensitivity for a seven year old girl, to think of her Daddy’s grief and to try to give him a gift to help him on Christmas Day. “I know your tender heart can be a lot to handle sometimes,” I told her at last. “But sometimes it’s what makes you the very best person you can be. Thank you, darling.”
She smiled at me, and danced away to dress her Kit doll in Kit’s new doll clothes.
*hugs*
It is rather hard. My grandma died..gosh it will be 14 years in March. I miss her a lot still, especially around the holidays. I miss how she used to stuff her mouth full of food and then yell at one of us kids for doing something bad. I miss how at Christmas she would squeal, “MY BABIES ARE HERE!” and run to us when we would arrive. She is still ever present and I still miss her terribly. I hope the holidays are sweet for your family. Sweet in that you are carrying on her traditions and remembering her with love.
It’s still so new that it’s painful. People tell you to remember the good times, but it’s still too sad. I cried for days before Thanksgiving at the drop of a hat. I dreaded Thanksgiving. I can’t even contemplate Christmas yet. I know it’s going to be so so hard. I will keep remembering last Christmas and keep wishing my brother was still here. I imagine you’ll be doing many of the same things. I don’t have any advice, no pat sayings, no inspirational phrases. Just know you are not alone. Let the tears come, smile when you can, take joy in every precious moment with your girls and the family around you. Know that you have many people who care about you and will be here with strong shoulders for you to lean on. Hugs!
Empty Chairs
A table full of empty chairs,
Reminders of Christmas past.
The children were too young to know
That’s where Grandpa used to sit.
The brother who couldn’t make the flight.
Close cousins becoming strangers.
The daughter with her friends,
the son at his in-laws house.
The party becoming smaller, quieter.
The children grown,
their table put away.
They have lives of their own,
each has a full house…and not enough chairs.
Holiday season….brings out the best of times and brings out the worse…