Monday, June 04, 2007
25 years ago today
It amazes me that it has been this long. Basically, 2/3 of my life has gone by. I still remember details of that day perfectly.
My mom was a girl scout leader still, even though I had aged out of the troop. She was taking her troop camping and a friend of mine and I were going along to help out. I was SO excited! We actually got permission to leave school early for this. I thought this was going to be a great weekend. So when it was time to leave we went out to the parking lot and instead of my mom like we expected, my father was there. I thought that seemed weird, but I figured she must have had some last minute running around to do so that's why he came. We got in the car and he said "you're not going". I told my friend he was joking, that of course we are. He replied "No, you're not going". I still disagreed and asserted that it was just a cruel joke. He then said "You're not going because your grandmother is dead". Just like that. One of the most important people in my life, and he said it just like that. At that moment I really still did not believe it could be true, and was mostly embarrassed for my friend to have seen him be such a dickhead. He brought her home to her house and then dropped me off at my grandmother's apartment.
I walked up the stairs and the first person I saw was my Aunt Helen. She is my Uncle Tom's wife, and a nurse, and she was a great support to my mom throughout my gramma's cancer. She handed me a glass of water.
I still think of that moment as one of the kindest things anyone has ever done. It sounds lame to say "someone handing me water" ranks up there, but it made a huge difference. There were so many people there, it was overwhelming, but she noticed ME, and did the only thing she could think of to acknowledge that I needed *something*. I guess it's too hard to explain, but trust me, it mattered. I then went into the front bedroom which we always called "Pop-pop's bedroom". It wasn't his, he would nap in there sometimes because it was farther away from noise, but really it was just the spare room. We played in there alot. We would play make believe games, we had a store, a school... you know what I mean. I guess I wanted to be there because it was not real in there. My cousin Colleen was in there. She is the oldest of the 13 grandkids and therefore had the opportunity to spend the most time with the most wonderful woman in our family. Hell, they even went on a trip to Hawaii together to visit my Uncle Mike. That was the first time I cried, was in that front room with Colleen.
My gramma was sick for a while. She had bladder cancer. I was in junior high, so I was old enough to know what was going on, but young enough to not really grasp the seriousness of it. I truly did not think she would leave us. Even in 1982 when cancer was pretty much a death sentence, I figured she'd end up ok. How could she not? She was one of the most important people in my life.
Most of my childhood memories involve her. We lived in the same town, and she and my mom were very close, so we were there ALL THE TIME. In fact, I know her apartment so well that I still am there consistently in my dreams. I can still describe it in great detail because I never really left it. Often in my nightmares I go there to be safe. And that's what she was to me- safe.
One of my most special memories of her was when my father's father died. I never was close to him. He did not speak English and was kind of a nutcase. (he had a good reason- he did time in a concentration camp back in Poland) Anyway, he bascially scared me. When I was in fifth grade he died. And while the rest of the family was dealing with that, I rode my bicycle over to my grammas house. We watched West Side Story on tv together. And I cried to her explaining that I felt like I should cry because my grandfather died, but I did not feel anything except for guilt for not feeling anything. Somehow, she made me feel ok about it. She could do that.
Last night my sister and I were IMing about it. She pointed out that she is currently the same age that my mother was when we lost her. That freaks me out. I cannot believe that. That terrifies me. I am very tight with my mom, and knowing how tight she was with hers, it really hits home how bad it is for her still. If I still am not over the grief of losing her, then how can she be even close?
But I guess I'm just going to focus on the fact that for 13 years of my life I had one of the most wonderful supportive people who loved me. I believe got my sense of humor from her. And that I got my sarcasm and smartassitute from her. I also like to think that I got some strength from her. I know I got much peace and love from her.
So Gramma, I miss you. I hope that you're happy where you are, and that you still look down on us and smile. And when it's pouring rain you remember us singing "zippadeedodah, zippadeeay my oh my what a yucky day, plenty of rain heading our way, zippadeedoodah zippadeeay!"
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Oh darlin.......
I know this grief you speak of and it never really goes away. That's the power of love speaking to your heart and soul.
You make magic with your words, did you know that, my friend?
You make me want to start blogging again!
:) hugs & peace,
Grits