I suck at the big things in life. I never know what to say or do or how to act. As easy as it is for me to laugh about the humor I see in life, is as hard as it is for me to express the serious. So with my Grandma’s passing, I had no idea how to deal with what I was feeling. I started by being a total bitch to those closest to me, then I moved on to my standard coping of eating my emotions, but when I realized that wasn’t the best way to cope (and that my pants were no longer zipping), I started writing- which seems to work for me as a way to make sense of what the scrambled mess that is my brain creates. Disclaimer- what follows is a break from the ordinary for me.
When I wrote, what came out was a list of all of the things I attribute to my Grandma:
Peanut butter and butter crackers with holes in the saltines
Her brushing my hair (or picking out my perm depending on the year) while staying up late to watch Johnny Carson and drink our tea
The clink of her rings on her white tea cup
Sleeping in her big bed and having to put a pillow between my knees to sleep just like her
The glass jug of water in the fridge and how that water tasted better than any water anywhere, hands down
Home perms sitting in her brown leather dining chairs
Almond bark covered everything at Christmas time
Taking me to the pool and watching everything I did from the side with a huge smile on her face
Taking me to church and being so proud to show me off to all of her friends.
Snapping beans from her garden that she worked so tirelessly in
Hard boiled eggs with money amounts written on them for Easter
Shopping at the grocery store to stock up for our week together in the summer and her buying all the things my Mom always said “No” to, including that “colored sugar water” that came in the little plastic barrels with the tin seal.
Her entire house being ours for the taking. We went through closets, bathroom cabinets, dressers- there was nothing off limits.
When I list these out, I smile because I know that my girls are making these same memories with their grandparents and I cry because it took her getting sick for me to realize how important these were to me.
My parents took Blakelyn down to visit my Grandma a few weekends ago and they all helped plant her garden and spent the day with her. My Dad shared that when Blakelyn hugged her before they left, my Grandma said “That right there is worth a million dollars” and it was. She is the type of person that would take a hug over money any day. I wish I could be more like that. Deep down, maybe there is a part of me that is because when I look at this list, I realize that the things that were most important to me aren’t things at all. They are smells and feelings and experiences. Of the hundreds of presents she bought for me over the years, I can’t remember any of them right now, but I remember her and her wonderful laugh and the specialness of having a Grandma who made each grandkid feel like her favorite.
Above all, I remember the way she made me feel. I was special, I was important and I was loved.
When Nolan and I first got together, he thought it was so bizarre that my family was telling each other they loved each other constantly. I would call my Mom to ask how to get a poop stain out of a baby sleeper or what time we were going to meet for a walk and then end the call by saying “I love you”.
Somewhere along the way, I allowed my heart to harden and I built a wall. I went years without feeling loved and I was isolated enough from my family that no one expressed love to me. The girl who once gave out "free hug" coupons for Christmas was now a bitter, prickly adult. So even though I was still saying “I love you” at the end of phone calls, it wasn’t actually registering what that meant. It was just something you say to close a conversation. I wasn’t living it, I wasn’t feeling it.
Something like this happening tends to change the way you look at things, so when my Mom held the phone up to my Grandma’s ear in the hospital, I said something that I had probably gotten too cool to say somewhere in my teenage years: “I love you a bushel and a peck Grandma” and she responded: “I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck” just as if we had never stopped saying it. I meant it more than I had meant anything in my life. I knew she knew how much I loved her and I felt her love in those simple words.
I have done a lot of reflecting on how I have lived the last 10 years of my life. I have wasted so much time being angry, resentful and sad. I am ready to put that behind me and try harder to see the good things in life and finally be content. All I can hope is that I can live a life where hugs are worth more than things and my words and actions can change someone’s life for the better. Maybe, just maybe, I can soften up enough to show others the same type of love that my Grandma showed me.
