It hit me while writing my latest obituary. Around this time last year I was writing my first one, except it wasn’t for a stranger.
My grandmother died one year ago today.
Time does fly, but I still feel the lost as if it just happened
That was one trip to Jacksonville I didn’t want to make. Then I didn’t want to leave when it was time to return to Hartwell.
I thought the tears would never stop coming.
I felt like life couldn’t go on and wanted to wallow in a dark abyss of sadness for the rest of my life.
“I have no one left in this world,” I remember telling one friend.
She quickly reminded me of my massive family.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “What about all those people at your graduation?”
Yes, even in sorrow I am overly dramatic.
At that time it seemed like the end of my world. I was a bucket of tears.
Then I thought about how my mom probably felt. That made me cry 10 times worse.
She took care of my granny throughout her battle with dementia. That is no easy task.
A lesser daughter would have probably run away from it or crumbled under the pressure. She was able to handle it with no complaints.
My mom set aside her own tears on many occasion.
I decided I wanted to be strong for her if nothing else. Yes, I had my moment, but I was OK at the funeral.
Even now I want to be strong for my mother.
It was hard at first because everything reminds of my granny. Certain hymns, the color green, even Florence my peace lily (I got it from the funeral).
I still think about her today, but surprisingly I don’t necessarily get teary-eyed every time.
Mainly memories of her make me smile.
It was the same way when my granddaddy died. I cried during the whole funeral and thought I couldn’t make it.
Now I take pleasure and solace in the sweet memories.
I know my mom has her fair share of sad moments. So I tell her to just let it flow, whether she’s at work, out in public or by herself.
Sometimes the person that’s normally the rock needs to turn into the waterfall. M mom and I have switched roles in that sense.
I still do have my crying spells. You know the ones where you can barely breathe and start hiccupping.
I let the tears fall for however long.
Just Saturday I was cleaning my house and saw a copy of the funeral program and obituary. Instantly I went into hysterics.
So for two hours I vacuumed and cried, swept and cried and washed dishes and cried. I even took a break from cleaning to cry some more.
Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Kind of like Florida rain showers.
It’s funny how that happens. Maybe its part of the healing process.
*No tears were hurt in the making of this note.*