Tell Me A Story

[melissima]

"She lay there a long time, remembering a hot August day in Nashville and thinking-not for the first time-that being single after being double so long was strange shite, indeed. She would have thought two years was enough time for the strangeness to rub off, but it wasn't; time apparently did nothing but blunt grief's sharpest edge so that it

Comments

[minkhollow]

Today is my grandmother's birthday.
I never met her; she died when my mom was only two years old (cancer that she left untreated because she was pregnant - the baby died as well). So Mom doesn't even know much about her, as her father hasn't talked about it much until recently. Her aunts and uncles filled in what they could, but I've never heard many stories.
I know she graduated high school in the late '40s, she was fond of photography, and she died in the house we lived in until I was about three (which surprised me; I knew Mom lived there with her first husband, but I didn't know the house had been in the family that long). I know, thanks to one of the few times my grandfather's mentioned it, that Mom was aware something was wrong and apparently kept trying to share her bottle.
A few years ago, Mom got their wedding album and I got one of the pictures. As I flipped through the album, I saw a picture where my grandmother has this smirk on her face - I know that smirk. I use it all the time, and my mother and sister have as well

[melissima]

That is an awesome story. /Hugs/ Thank you so much for sharing it and here's to all the awesome ladies with the smirk!

[browngirl]

I feel kind of bad, because this story is about people I love and miss, but they're not dead. We just have too much history between us. But anyway.

* *** *

When my parents were first married they were young, in love, and really poor. How poor? They could only afford one magazine at a time! So they were reading their magazine together (I always like to imagine them wedged together into one chair the way slender young people in love would sit) and read about an African writer whose daughter was named [my first name]. They decided that if they had a daughter they'd name her that.

Several years later, after several tries, they did have a daughter, and she grew up to be me. I ended up being a great disappointment to them, but I've always loved the name they gave me.

It totally counts! Death is not the only loss.

[melissima]

That is a beautiful story, and you are the absolute blossom of a beautiful dream. It's incredibly sad that your parents aren't able to clearly see the magical woman their dream made, but thankfully there are others of us with eyes to see.

You are a gift and a blessing to me, just because you are out there, being yourself. Never, ever forget that.

Re: It totally counts! Death is not the only loss.

[melissima]

Oh, and also? I deliberately said "love and miss" on purpose because there is mourning that is not for the dead.

♥

Re: It totally counts! Death is not the only loss.

[browngirl]

*blushes and hugs you tightly*
Every time I try to reply to this properly I start sniffling. But thank you, so, so much.

[monkeyfun1]

My mother was the second child of four and the only girl. She was raised on a ranch in Montana that dealt in cattle, sheep and wheat. By the time she was 15 she was the only girl in a 30 mile radius. One night she heard about a beer bust out at another ranch and decided to go. When she got there the boys from a ranch neighboring hers saw her, grabbed her up and escorted her home telling her that "A beer bust was no place for a lady." My mother's response was that there were plenty of other girls there. The neighbor boy said, "Yes, other types of girls, not ladies. That's why you're going home." That just chapped her hide. She knew some of those girls from the schoolhouse. They rode the bus to get there. Never-the-less, she wasn't allowed to go by the neighbor-boy.