- "Hey Linni-lou!"
- how many times he called be his pretty girl
- him making me a martial arts belt holder
- "Well hi there!"
- the doll cradle he made me with my name on it
- the large cradle he made for me to use as a baby
- the table and chairs he made for me when I was little
- Maddie and I making a crazy 'soup' concoction outdoors one day, sand and grass in a pink bucket. Grandpa put some of it in his mouth.
- Grandpa asking me at age 8/12 to go into the gas station and buy chew for him. Dad didn't let me.
- I forgot to give him that 'x University grandpa' keychain. For two years.
- I hope they got my thank you note from graduation.
- I never got to go fishing with him.
- we were going to go fishing yet then I got those nine stitches.
- never got to talk guns with him.
- he gave me his uncle's marbles
- Going to hardware stores and lumber yards with him
- When he would sit me up on the counter of the hardware store and everyone would come over and look at my pretty blue eyes.
- I hate that I can't think of more. I'll keep adding things. Granted, I haven't seen these grandparents as much... Because of mom and other things... but there's no need to lay blame.
I think my brain, in relation to myself, intrinsically links crying or the showing of any emotion as weakness.
This shouldn't be a new revelation, however as I'm thinking of how I've never, ever been able to receive comforting or even comprehend comfort from any living being... It just makes sense. I'm okay with it from others. Yet from me? Years of being yelled at by mom rather got rid of emotions in front of people. Now I've gotten to the point where I just can't handle them. Or perhaps I'm just normal.
Texted my dad that I love him, these are things my family never ever says, yet recently dad and I have been able to say it every once in a while. Said it to him yesterday when he called, just as he was saying bye he said it and I hesitated and said it too. First time I'd said that to either one of my parents. First time. Ever. Really, first time I'd said it to anyone buy my grandparents or campers. Or minions.
Even when I'm upset myself I enjoy making others smile. I hope it worked. And I dearly hope mom isn't going to yell at him anytime soon.
I was always worried that when any member of my family died I'd be guilt ridden under the weight of what I should have said, what I hadn't done, how much I hadn't seen them as much as I'd wished... but really, I'm going to see him again. And he had gotten so bad, it just... yeah.
If I feel as if there should have been more I love yous and hugs, there's an eternity for that later. And he knows. So there's that.
Not long after I heard, I had this intense moment of clarity, softness, and comfort because I knew that it wasn't over. That's not just it. There's more. While it isn't time for goodbye, it is rather "I wish I had" time. Time to appreciate. Be sad. But not quite goodbye.
So, I suppose while I cannot for the life of my comprehend being comforted by anyone here on earth, I have always been able to count on those small moments of clarity and trust. No matter the situation.
It's odd and ridiculously comforting, especially with me and my constant fight with the passage of time.
Mom also had enough sense to just let me know and then let me get off the phone. She texted to make sure I was at home first, so I knew something was up... And with him being as he was... I just didn't realize how bad. However he's going to be cremated, so no funeral, somehow the thought of not /seeing/ him again makes it worse. You would think it would be better, I mean not seeing them dead, yet they're not really there anyway.
While I'm unsettled and feeling genuine grief, something new in my repertoire of emotions, I'm marveling at how I am not cursing the passage of time as I so often do.
Why am I at peace with this?
Let's pray that I remain so...
No matter what comes next.
