Memories & Reflection
As I checked my LJ this morn, I discovered bizczarstuff 's mother had passed during the night. It brought back a lot of memories from Thanksgiving 12 years ago. My grandmother had been suffering from ovarian cancer for about four years (I think Mom can tell me whether that's accurate or not), she had suffered a couple of strokes and could not take care of herself. I was very close to my grandmother. I was the first grandchild, so I was spoiled rotten by my grandparents. When my grandma had her first stroke, I was only maybe 11 or 12, so I really couldn't comprehend why all of the sudden my grandma wasn't as robust as she once was. Our cousin Bobbie who lived with Grandma and Grandpa, would always take Matt and me back into her room or outside to play whenever we came to visit, so once Grandma truly became sick, I never spent time with her. It was hard seeing her as the shell of her former self, struggling to speak coherently and sit upright. I get choked up just thinking about it now. If I had been older, maybe I would've been wiser and done what my mother had done---been there for Grandma Mary when nobody else could accept what was happening and had happened to her. I am very thankful my mother was able to be there for her when I and the rest of the family couldn't. I didn't understand, and I wanted my old grandma back. Matt and I didn't like seeing her in that state, and I feel she was only living through her pain for her family's sake.
The day she passed, I remember walking to a corner of my room, midafternoon, curling into a ball on the floor and just crying my eyes out. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. I was releasing everything. Grandma had called her 5 children to her bedside, and after Aunt Cindy made it late that night, Grandma slipped away. My dad was up there with the rest of his siblings, and Mom brought Matt and me up for the funeral.
At the wake it was hard to endure the open casket. The body that had inhabited my grandmother looked nothing like her. The cancer had made sure of that. I could not cry. I didn't feel she was there. She was gone. She had left that diseased body for good.
It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The sky was gray and couldn't figure out whether it wanted to snow or not, so it dropped a flake or two every now and again. Grandpa Vic's birthday was tomorrow, along with the Thanksgiving feast. Friends and relatives had provided all the food, enough food to last Grandpa and Bobbie for weeks. I remember this as the last time I saw Liz, Tori, and Uncle Vic before Liz moved out here two months ago. I remember this being the first Catholic funeral, or Catholic service for that matter, that I had attended.
I remember Aunt Mary Ann and Bobbie wept at the casket at the gravesite in Pleasant HIll. Most everybody else was somber. I could not shed tears. I felt an overwhelming sense of elation. I was happy she was not suffering. I was happy she was not there. I did not feel sadness. I felt guilt for not grieving with the others. I had to remember I had grieved earlier. I felt that Grandma did not want me to grieve for her this day.
When I was a freshman in college, I wrote a poem in my creative writing class documenting the passing of my grandmother. As I read it now, it feels stiff, unrelenting in emotion. I struggled with my teacher about how it should be, but structured I must be even when unwilling.
I still miss her tremendously. We were so close when I was a child. I still miss her mother who died when I was around 4 or 5---we were close as well. The mortality of the human being is something we never want to accept when it comes to family. I truly believe my grandmother was with me for years after she passed. She watched over me as I struggled into adulthood. She was my guardian angel. She only left me recently when I discovered another watching over me. I know she's there if I need her, I know she knows how much I love her, and I know she will always be a part of my life. She has to take care of all of us now as she did when she was alive, and I know I am the least of her worries in this big family of ours.
I send my condolences to Steve and his family. He's a strong man, and this will make him stronger. His mother will always be with him, his dad, and Rob. She will live through their love.