(no subject)
My great grandfather died earlier tonight. I thought I was prepared, but even now my cheeks are still wet with tears. He's been very sick, and we all knew that this was best. But through all the relief I feel, I still feel sad. It still hurts. What hurts most is that I feel guilt. He's dead, and I feel guilty. I didn't take the time to go see him, to let him know he was important. Yet when I was a kid he never missed a chance to show me how important I was.
How do we choose what we remember from our past? Can we? Sure we remember things that happen to us that play a major impact in our lives. But then how do we explain memories that stick in our like banana slices on top of cocoa puffs. Or dr.pepper in absurd silver cups. Cans of pears in the cubbard that you can't reach, so you climb on top of the washer and dryer. The smell of a drawer full of makeup. Why do we remember these things? And why do we take them for granted as they happen? When we were kids, my sister and I, we were practically raised by my great-grandma and grandpa. Of course my father played a bigger deal in my life than in my sisters, which is why I think my sister has been effected by his death worse than me. But I remember my great grandma saying things like "give me a hug, because I won't always be here." And I would always reassure her that she would, but she wasn't. I'm not even sure any of this makes sense. I'm really just babling as it comes. These are the way my thoughts are coming tonight, here at work. I called to see if someone would come in and work for me, but nobody will, apparently a death in the family doesn't matter to anyone but me and mine.
How do we choose what we remember from our past? Can we? Sure we remember things that happen to us that play a major impact in our lives. But then how do we explain memories that stick in our like banana slices on top of cocoa puffs. Or dr.pepper in absurd silver cups. Cans of pears in the cubbard that you can't reach, so you climb on top of the washer and dryer. The smell of a drawer full of makeup. Why do we remember these things? And why do we take them for granted as they happen? When we were kids, my sister and I, we were practically raised by my great-grandma and grandpa. Of course my father played a bigger deal in my life than in my sisters, which is why I think my sister has been effected by his death worse than me. But I remember my great grandma saying things like "give me a hug, because I won't always be here." And I would always reassure her that she would, but she wasn't. I'm not even sure any of this makes sense. I'm really just babling as it comes. These are the way my thoughts are coming tonight, here at work. I called to see if someone would come in and work for me, but nobody will, apparently a death in the family doesn't matter to anyone but me and mine.