(no subject)
I know I've written this before, but I can't help but say it again.. but part of me still pretends that Grandmama is over there in Ottawa, her little house on Navaho, frantically picking up all the maple leaves that dare fall on her well-kept, green lawn.
It's easier this way- I haven't been to Ottawa since her passing, so the truth hasn't exactly been staring me in the face. My cousin has bought her house.. I am ridiculously happy about this. I can't imagine it being passed on to strangers with no idea of the happiness, the love, and the warmth that has been shared within those walls.
But it is hard to see pictures of his renovation and how the house has changed. One more fact that she is no longer part of the earth we know.
I remember her hands. I remember her feet. I remember the distressed looks she sometimes got. I remember the way she used to watch the television intently, not to miss a single part of her French Canadian news. I remember how she would cross her legs. I remember her lovely morning dresses. I remember her voice and her scrunchy smile. I remember how she would eat her food, whether it be those beloved tomato sandwhiches or chocolate chip cookies.
I remember many of her clothes. I remember her grey windbreaker, her fancy red coat, her black coat with the fur collar, her long, flower-printed skirts, her sleeveless blouses, her sweaters with odd prints on them, all of her insane nighties, and especially, those crazy sunglasses she had. Those were great- she looked fierce (never thought I'd describe my Grandmama as "fierce").. all of it. I still remember.
I remember how she withered away with cancer.. the time at Christmas, my god was she different. Physically, only though. Her infectuous smile, her loving embrace, her kisses and her goodnights- they remained.
I'm faced with a daunting task.. one I don't know how I'm going to handle. I never saw her grave. They simply couldn't dig in February, the ground was frozen. How odd is it that my closure depended on the temperature of shitty Canadian winters?
There are two things about the coming summer that frighten me- seeing her grave but also being in that house. That house that I loved.. it's as though I'm going to resent its change, as it forces me to change my memory of it. I mean, the grave is going to be the final nail in the coffin (yeah, that was some pretty spot on pun), but it's not as if I have any certain perception of what it's like. The grave will be a new memory, but the house will be a memory that needs altering.
I mean, I'm not in denial. I know she's gone.. I just don't like thinking about it that way. I guess that's one of the fabulous defence mechanisms my brain has put to work. I just don't want that switch turned off this summer.
I sometimes think that my life would be perfect if only she was around. What I wouldn't give to have her back. I would basically go to all lengths for this wish to be fulfilled. I am in no way suicidal, but I've had my down days where I wonder whether or not I should jump off a bridge just to be with her. I really hope that last sentence isn't misunderstood- I would never do this. But the fact that I've thought about these radical things, makes me realize it's probably time to come to terms with what I've been going through.
You know.. I do know some people who have lost parents. They say that losing a grandparent is nothing like losing an actual parent- but I get really offended by this. Losing a parent is a completely different ballgame- but it's just as hard (or, can be at least).
I found a card from Grandmama a while back. I found several actually, these items (along with the blue blankie she gave me, Mr. Nordwald, and the beautiful framed picture I have of her and I) would be the items I'd save if the house was burning. I see the ink in the card, what she has written and it's as though I can touch her. I skim the ink with my fingers and it feels as though I'm touching her hand.. It's such a warm feeling, though it overwhelms me with sadness. Touching the ink is like touching her hand, but then I want to hug her and that obviously can't happen.
The card that means the most, has the most precious message within. I don't want to share it, but I'll say this; it's as though she wrote it, knowing how much it would mean to me now. It's as though she wrote it for me to read now (and not then). Maybe it's just coincidence, but it's so fitting. This might also be one of those weird dillusions I'm having, but I hope not.
I still have dreams about her. Well, they're actually more like nightmares. Someone told me that it was a sign for me to "let go". But in some ways, I think they're part of the process. And also, I want to be allowed to be sad. I want it to be ok that I'm grieving. A lot of people likely think that's it's unhealthy, that it's time to "move on".. but we all have different ways of getting over things. We all have different ways of healing. In this case, in my case, it's going to take a while. Considering that she was a part of my life for more than 17 years, I don't think it's unfitting that I'm still grieving?
She made a huge impact on my life, needless to say. It's only been about one year, two months, a week and two days since she passed (roughly estimated). And taking into consideration the time I've had with her, the times I haven't had with her pales in comparison.
Man.. I just miss her, that's all. Writing about her in the past tense is pretty rouch too. I just wish she could be there with me through life. This life thing comes with a whole lot of shit that would be easier to deal with if your favourite person was around. And all the good stuff too- all the great things she's going to miss out on. Those things make me sad as well..
Guess what? I love you.
It's easier this way- I haven't been to Ottawa since her passing, so the truth hasn't exactly been staring me in the face. My cousin has bought her house.. I am ridiculously happy about this. I can't imagine it being passed on to strangers with no idea of the happiness, the love, and the warmth that has been shared within those walls.
But it is hard to see pictures of his renovation and how the house has changed. One more fact that she is no longer part of the earth we know.
I remember her hands. I remember her feet. I remember the distressed looks she sometimes got. I remember the way she used to watch the television intently, not to miss a single part of her French Canadian news. I remember how she would cross her legs. I remember her lovely morning dresses. I remember her voice and her scrunchy smile. I remember how she would eat her food, whether it be those beloved tomato sandwhiches or chocolate chip cookies.
I remember many of her clothes. I remember her grey windbreaker, her fancy red coat, her black coat with the fur collar, her long, flower-printed skirts, her sleeveless blouses, her sweaters with odd prints on them, all of her insane nighties, and especially, those crazy sunglasses she had. Those were great- she looked fierce (never thought I'd describe my Grandmama as "fierce").. all of it. I still remember.
I remember how she withered away with cancer.. the time at Christmas, my god was she different. Physically, only though. Her infectuous smile, her loving embrace, her kisses and her goodnights- they remained.
I'm faced with a daunting task.. one I don't know how I'm going to handle. I never saw her grave. They simply couldn't dig in February, the ground was frozen. How odd is it that my closure depended on the temperature of shitty Canadian winters?
There are two things about the coming summer that frighten me- seeing her grave but also being in that house. That house that I loved.. it's as though I'm going to resent its change, as it forces me to change my memory of it. I mean, the grave is going to be the final nail in the coffin (yeah, that was some pretty spot on pun), but it's not as if I have any certain perception of what it's like. The grave will be a new memory, but the house will be a memory that needs altering.
I mean, I'm not in denial. I know she's gone.. I just don't like thinking about it that way. I guess that's one of the fabulous defence mechanisms my brain has put to work. I just don't want that switch turned off this summer.
I sometimes think that my life would be perfect if only she was around. What I wouldn't give to have her back. I would basically go to all lengths for this wish to be fulfilled. I am in no way suicidal, but I've had my down days where I wonder whether or not I should jump off a bridge just to be with her. I really hope that last sentence isn't misunderstood- I would never do this. But the fact that I've thought about these radical things, makes me realize it's probably time to come to terms with what I've been going through.
You know.. I do know some people who have lost parents. They say that losing a grandparent is nothing like losing an actual parent- but I get really offended by this. Losing a parent is a completely different ballgame- but it's just as hard (or, can be at least).
I found a card from Grandmama a while back. I found several actually, these items (along with the blue blankie she gave me, Mr. Nordwald, and the beautiful framed picture I have of her and I) would be the items I'd save if the house was burning. I see the ink in the card, what she has written and it's as though I can touch her. I skim the ink with my fingers and it feels as though I'm touching her hand.. It's such a warm feeling, though it overwhelms me with sadness. Touching the ink is like touching her hand, but then I want to hug her and that obviously can't happen.
The card that means the most, has the most precious message within. I don't want to share it, but I'll say this; it's as though she wrote it, knowing how much it would mean to me now. It's as though she wrote it for me to read now (and not then). Maybe it's just coincidence, but it's so fitting. This might also be one of those weird dillusions I'm having, but I hope not.
I still have dreams about her. Well, they're actually more like nightmares. Someone told me that it was a sign for me to "let go". But in some ways, I think they're part of the process. And also, I want to be allowed to be sad. I want it to be ok that I'm grieving. A lot of people likely think that's it's unhealthy, that it's time to "move on".. but we all have different ways of getting over things. We all have different ways of healing. In this case, in my case, it's going to take a while. Considering that she was a part of my life for more than 17 years, I don't think it's unfitting that I'm still grieving?
She made a huge impact on my life, needless to say. It's only been about one year, two months, a week and two days since she passed (roughly estimated). And taking into consideration the time I've had with her, the times I haven't had with her pales in comparison.
Man.. I just miss her, that's all. Writing about her in the past tense is pretty rouch too. I just wish she could be there with me through life. This life thing comes with a whole lot of shit that would be easier to deal with if your favourite person was around. And all the good stuff too- all the great things she's going to miss out on. Those things make me sad as well..
Guess what? I love you.