(no subject)
Yesterday was a painfully beautiful day.
My grandma died in the afternoon, and I got to be holding her hand and my mom's hand when she went. The room was filled with her children and three grandchildren.
My aunt said to my grandma, after she passed, "No more skin troubles!" I suddenly thought about how skin disease is a small price to pay for a beautiful long life. All of my problems are a small price to pay for a morning bike ride along a pretty river in the warm air. All of my troubles are worth sitting in a room with aunts and uncles and cousin and mom and sister. All the hassles of life are worth a good peanut-butter chocolate chip cookie. I don't think my grandma regretted her skin disease, and I don't think my mom or sister will either. I think at the end of my life I'm not going to regret my crumbling spine or my broken foot. It's all worth it.
Then we went to my mom's and I brought over all of my left-overs (lots of cookies baked this week for my mom and grandma) and a bottle of wine and ate liberally from all of it and made my family happy with enchiladas and wine and cookies. This is a beautiful life.
And I am also so tired and sad I feel like it's hard to move. She's been gone for multiple years, but right now she is gone gone. I can't even quite think about that and make it make sense. After my parents, my grandma is the safest most wonderful person of my life. And she left me. I told her to leave me here, but I sort of don't know how to be in the world now that she did. I can't make the world make sense like it did with her in it.
I'm so so very sad. Have I ever been this sad before? Probably not. But that is beautiful too. Because she loved me very much, and I loved her so very much.
My grandma died in the afternoon, and I got to be holding her hand and my mom's hand when she went. The room was filled with her children and three grandchildren.
My aunt said to my grandma, after she passed, "No more skin troubles!" I suddenly thought about how skin disease is a small price to pay for a beautiful long life. All of my problems are a small price to pay for a morning bike ride along a pretty river in the warm air. All of my troubles are worth sitting in a room with aunts and uncles and cousin and mom and sister. All the hassles of life are worth a good peanut-butter chocolate chip cookie. I don't think my grandma regretted her skin disease, and I don't think my mom or sister will either. I think at the end of my life I'm not going to regret my crumbling spine or my broken foot. It's all worth it.
Then we went to my mom's and I brought over all of my left-overs (lots of cookies baked this week for my mom and grandma) and a bottle of wine and ate liberally from all of it and made my family happy with enchiladas and wine and cookies. This is a beautiful life.
And I am also so tired and sad I feel like it's hard to move. She's been gone for multiple years, but right now she is gone gone. I can't even quite think about that and make it make sense. After my parents, my grandma is the safest most wonderful person of my life. And she left me. I told her to leave me here, but I sort of don't know how to be in the world now that she did. I can't make the world make sense like it did with her in it.
I'm so so very sad. Have I ever been this sad before? Probably not. But that is beautiful too. Because she loved me very much, and I loved her so very much.