death.
It's amazing how a seemingly normal day can be completely switched around by something. Death. It's a 5 letter word... a word that often brings a rush of emotions. Death hits everyone differently, for me, it makes me question my own self worth, my own well being and my own heart. My father called me today... my last living grandparent, my grandmother Esther was found dead today in her home.
We had been planning to take her to assisted living. She showed no signs of illness, or weakened heart in months past. It's difficult to imagine how or why she was found laying on her kitchen floor. My heart hopes that she went quickly and with little pain, my mind races, to figure out something to make the pain ease in my chest.
It's been over 2 years since I've last seen her. Moving across the country, not only keeps you from lots of things you want to do, but lots of things you should do. I would take back all the money I spent on worthless shit now, if it meant I could have afforded at least one plane ticket to see her.
We were never entirely close, but we had a bond. I always felt like the left out grandchild. I saw her about three times a year, and my cousins always lived close by. I was usually the outcast, not sure if it was due to the distance (Maryland to Pennsylvania) or the fact that my mother tended to harbor this idea that she hated to go there, for whatever reason. Once I was older, I was able to make my grandmother laugh, and giggle and smile. I'd make her say "Oh Mercy" at least 4 times in a conversation and make my father chuckle too. It's amazing what a divorce can do for relationships that always felt strained. I love my mother, but my relationship with my father and his side of the family grew after the split.
I really don't know that much about my grandmother. This is where the selfish thoughts come in. I think deep down for all the giving I do in life, I'm 100 times more selfish. I feel like moves so fast I never get to learn things about people, like I should. I'm still finding out wonderful things about my father. I've known the man for 30 years, and just the other day head a great story about him working at a funeral home, it made me laugh and long to know my father inside and out, but something in me just won't allow me to ask... to dig deeper.
My mother has always been guarded, maybe that's where I get it. She had a painful childhood, I didn't, but I learned how to be silent from her, maybe? I don't know enough about her either... I don't even know the exact time I was born. I feel like I really should start digging into my past more. And their pasts... not just my own. Again with the selfish.
I've heard of families that sit down and talk to each other... discuss old days and days of their youth. I never did that with my family. Always just lived in the moment. My mom will tell me stories all day about my youth. Funny stories... I don't remember any of these things.
My dad will tell me stories and beam. It's amazing that it took a divorce for me to realize how proud my father is of me, and just how MUCH he loves me.
I can't imagine losing them. I have a lot of forgiving to do with my mom. And a lot I need to get in touch with, but I'm not sure where to start. With her, with myself and with everything in general. Maybe this empty hole I sometimes feel, is my own doing when it comes to family... maybe it's just something I'm thinking is there. Either way. I feel distant.
It's sad that the people you love the most, seem to be strangers. I've lost touch a lot in my life, I really need to regain things. Make the hours that seem like not enough in a day, count for every moment.
I am going to miss my Grandmother, we weren't close but like I said we shared a bond. I know now, I'll never stay in that house again. That I'll never sweat to death in the winter and want to open all the windows and let the zero degree air in. I'll never sit in her rocking chair that's warm from her. I'll never stare at the image of 'The Last Supper' above her kitchen table, or walk on the squeaky floors. I'll never wonder how she lived in such an old house for so many years. I'll never hug her, kiss her good bye, or hear her say "Oh Mercy", ever again. And I'll never get to hand her a grand child, like my cousins did. I guess it's true what they say... you never realize what you have until it's gone.
Sorry for all the babbling but I had to get this out somewhere. I'm not one to cry in front of people, but I might just have to get over that... and stop being selfish.
We had been planning to take her to assisted living. She showed no signs of illness, or weakened heart in months past. It's difficult to imagine how or why she was found laying on her kitchen floor. My heart hopes that she went quickly and with little pain, my mind races, to figure out something to make the pain ease in my chest.
It's been over 2 years since I've last seen her. Moving across the country, not only keeps you from lots of things you want to do, but lots of things you should do. I would take back all the money I spent on worthless shit now, if it meant I could have afforded at least one plane ticket to see her.
We were never entirely close, but we had a bond. I always felt like the left out grandchild. I saw her about three times a year, and my cousins always lived close by. I was usually the outcast, not sure if it was due to the distance (Maryland to Pennsylvania) or the fact that my mother tended to harbor this idea that she hated to go there, for whatever reason. Once I was older, I was able to make my grandmother laugh, and giggle and smile. I'd make her say "Oh Mercy" at least 4 times in a conversation and make my father chuckle too. It's amazing what a divorce can do for relationships that always felt strained. I love my mother, but my relationship with my father and his side of the family grew after the split.
I really don't know that much about my grandmother. This is where the selfish thoughts come in. I think deep down for all the giving I do in life, I'm 100 times more selfish. I feel like moves so fast I never get to learn things about people, like I should. I'm still finding out wonderful things about my father. I've known the man for 30 years, and just the other day head a great story about him working at a funeral home, it made me laugh and long to know my father inside and out, but something in me just won't allow me to ask... to dig deeper.
My mother has always been guarded, maybe that's where I get it. She had a painful childhood, I didn't, but I learned how to be silent from her, maybe? I don't know enough about her either... I don't even know the exact time I was born. I feel like I really should start digging into my past more. And their pasts... not just my own. Again with the selfish.
I've heard of families that sit down and talk to each other... discuss old days and days of their youth. I never did that with my family. Always just lived in the moment. My mom will tell me stories all day about my youth. Funny stories... I don't remember any of these things.
My dad will tell me stories and beam. It's amazing that it took a divorce for me to realize how proud my father is of me, and just how MUCH he loves me.
I can't imagine losing them. I have a lot of forgiving to do with my mom. And a lot I need to get in touch with, but I'm not sure where to start. With her, with myself and with everything in general. Maybe this empty hole I sometimes feel, is my own doing when it comes to family... maybe it's just something I'm thinking is there. Either way. I feel distant.
It's sad that the people you love the most, seem to be strangers. I've lost touch a lot in my life, I really need to regain things. Make the hours that seem like not enough in a day, count for every moment.
I am going to miss my Grandmother, we weren't close but like I said we shared a bond. I know now, I'll never stay in that house again. That I'll never sweat to death in the winter and want to open all the windows and let the zero degree air in. I'll never sit in her rocking chair that's warm from her. I'll never stare at the image of 'The Last Supper' above her kitchen table, or walk on the squeaky floors. I'll never wonder how she lived in such an old house for so many years. I'll never hug her, kiss her good bye, or hear her say "Oh Mercy", ever again. And I'll never get to hand her a grand child, like my cousins did. I guess it's true what they say... you never realize what you have until it's gone.
Sorry for all the babbling but I had to get this out somewhere. I'm not one to cry in front of people, but I might just have to get over that... and stop being selfish.