There are so many things I miss about my grandmother. Her all-round kick-ass awesomeness, how's that? How beautiful and funny and outspoken she was. Her strong sense of independence. The joy and zest she had for family celebrations and holidays.
I miss our kitchen chats. The contentment of sitting quietly together at Mass. Playing that Ray Conniff album over and over. Her collection of pink lipsticks. Looking through her jewelry box at all the beads and earrings. The colorful matching pant suits she wore. The piles of crocheted squares of black and red and blue. Falling asleep at night to the sound of The Late Show in the other room.
I miss the endless cups of tea. The smell of Jean Naté. Climbing out of Nana's bedroom window to read on the fire escape. The neighborhood ladies in their beach chairs. Movies at the Dale. Shopping trips to Woolworth's and Alexander's. Setting the table for Sunday pot roast with mashed potatoes. It was always pot roast.
I miss the sound of her voice calling my name.
Posts
it doesn't get easier, does it.
ReplyDeleteI watched my father-in-law throwing the football with my son Colin today, thirteen months after his wife died next to him in a car crash. One year ago today he had come home, was unable to walk, think clearly, or survive without horrendous pain. One year ago tomorrow was her memorial service. I watched him today throwing that football and thought, "we've come so far." But in reality, the grief is still raw. Losing those we love is just agony, plain and simple.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Oh my gosh Kathleen... I was just having this conversation with someone. They asked me if I thought I was through grieving the death of my parents, I said "hell, I still cry thinking about how much I miss my Nana." She's passed away 14 years ago November.
ReplyDeleteI think our Nana's must have somehow been connected -- except for the fire escape, no fire escape for mine. ;-)
This was so lovely -- we can share Nana stories when I come to NYC (like the way I said when?).
"Rather than try to dash it away by getting busy and distracted, I'm sitting at my dining table and breathing deeply. Here's to mindfulness, to sitting with what is even when I don't want to. Especially when I don't want to."
ReplyDeleteOne of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves...permission to feel, to grieve, to not mask the pain.
And one of the greatest gifts we can give one another, to be there with them in that place.
xo
@Lisa, You are so right. You are so right. We've come so far and yet...it never really goes away. We somehow learn to live with the sadness.
ReplyDelete@Becky, I am holding you to it! Cannot wait to meet you. I have a feeling we'll have lots to say, including Nana talk.
@Tammy, Yes, permission. So many times we want to move away from these feelings. But they chase after us, don't they? May as well stand still for a bit.
I miss my grandma in a very similar way. Her brother was in town recently, making me miss her all the more. Thank you for this wonderful post.
ReplyDelete