Last night, I dreamt about her. I've been hoping to dream of her
for so long, as if having her in my dreams would fulfill my emptiness
and bridge the gap between this earthly world and hers, wherever she may
be. It was a crazy dream, filled with odd, absurd, and
disturbing images...
But, at
one point, my Mom sent me into her room to store some items. In the
dream, we knew she was gone, and her room could be used for storage. I
walked in... and there she was; laying on her bed with the ugly maroon
bedspread, all curled up, and napping. I exclaimed "Grammy! Hi Grammy! I miss you so much"
sobbing, and waking her from her sleep. I was so helpless, it was as if I was a small child again. She woke up and said "Hi Honey..." I told her
how I've missed her so badly. We both knew she was gone, in the way that some dreams have established facts that you just feel to be true. She was not
of this world. We looked at one another and she consoled me, saying "it's okay Honey.
It's okay." I called out to my Mom and my sister Amber, and then Grammy got up and
walked out into the kitchen. In my dream, I knew she was a ghost,
just visiting us. I wanted to take a picture to prove that she was here, that
she came to see us from beyond. I pulled out my phone and started vigorously
snapping pictures. Before me, Grammy was her elderly, 87-year-old self, yet each
picture I snapped showed her to be younger. Unbelieving, I kept taking
pictures with my phone, then checking them. Over and over, snap after
snap. There she was, 87 years old in front of me, but with the camera
showing her younger and younger with each frame. Finally, after so many pictures, she was very young, maybe 20 years old or even a
teenager. My dream moved on to other craziness, as dreams often do.
I continued to think of her all day.
My Aunt and Uncle are in town. Tonight, I walked around Capitol Park with my Uncle. We talked about Grammy. I said, "I just can't believe it. I really can't believe she's gone. It's unreal." He said "yes, I know sweetie, it's going on a year now." My Uncle reminded me of being 7 when my Father died. He said he picked me up from Grammy's house and took me to McDonald's. He recalled how young, how little, I was.
I said "I know, that was so long ago..." - it's been 21 years since Daddy died. Losing someone when you're 7 compared to losing someone when you're 28 is very, very different. It's the difference between missing what you've lost, missing what you don't know - versus missing what you had, missing what you knew so very well.
Then,
later tonight, we watched a few episodes of a tv show that talked about
the stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, &
Acceptance.
And it resonated with me - I am in Denial.
Her final services provided no sense of closure for me. I was late to the 15 minute service, and I will regret being late forever. I missed something so important, and I've never wanted 5 minutes back more in my whole life. I wish I had been on time. I wish I was there early. She deserved that. And so did I. I needed more time to say goodbye. I wasn't ready. In fact, I'm still not ready.
I miss my Grammy so much and I could cry just thinking of her. I don't understand so many things - why my Daddy left me, why my Grammy left me. I don't understand why she had such a short "funeral service." I don't understand why she didn't try harder to stay alive and stay happy, to be here with us. I am upset about it all.
When she died, we weren't supposed to take anything from her room. My Mom said she wanted to keep everything intact - until all Grammy's children could come and see it, and say what memories and pieces of Grammy's stuff they wanted for themselves.
I used to go on Sundays to take care of her, to provide some respite for my Mom and sister Molly who cared for her around the clock; but moreso because I knew we were nearing the end, and I was so grateful to spend time with her, brushing her hair, and helping her with grooming while talking about her memories and her life. I would go into her room after she died just to feel that space, and to remember those times we had. Her closet remained untouched - all her clothes and shoes lined up like she'd left them. I found a pink t-shirt, so simple, that I remembered from caring for her. And I said to my Mommy "I know we aren't supposed to take anything from Grammy's room - but do you think I could take this t-shirt?" And so sweetly, she said "yes, Honey, I think that would be okay."
So I took it, and I immediately put it into a ziploc bag in my dresser drawer. Some weeks would be so hard for me, and so sad, knowing that she had died. I would tell myself, "on Friday you can take it out and smell her scent. On Friday, you can take her t-shirt out of the bag." I knew her smell would not stay on her t-shirt forever, and I used it as incentive to get through the week. I would take it out quickly and try not to keep it exposed to the air for too long. I would inhale it like a precious spice from a foreign land, a scent from a time just a year ago, when I would breathe in deeply as I hugged her. Sometimes, I would hold her so tightly, and I would think to myself "don't break her!" and she would whisper "you give the best hugs." I really loved how special she made me feel.
Now, 10 months later, the smell is about gone. I don't need it as much, and I keep the t-shirt in the ziploc bag, hoping that the next time I really need it, I will somehow still smell her hugs. It's a perfect mixture of Tide & Downy, old lady, and White Diamonds perfume. Now I also have a pair of her pink mary janes in our closet, mixed in with our own shoes, as a daily reminder of her cuteness.
Tonight, and so sad, thinking of Mrs. Rogene "Jeannie" Cooper, My Grammy, I googled "I miss my Grammy." I wanted anything that would comfort me.
Technology is too funny... and this is what I found:
“Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.”
— Ernest Hemingway
And that about sums it up. That's what I've learned from Grammy. That's what she has left me with, through her life, and through her mistakes, the meaning of it all. "Try to be alive." Oh, how I miss her. We always knew she would go, and we even talked about it. She would tell me she didn't want me to be sad, because she would be in heaven, reunited with her sweetheart.
And yet, I am so sad. I cannot fulfill her wish of being okay with her departure. Having her here for me was just too important. I may be selfish, but I just want her back home. I want her to be here with my Mommy, who I know misses her more than I ever could, always in the best bedroom of the house, always being somewhat difficult in a way we loved. I just want her back home.
Dear Grammy,
Please always visit me in my dreams. Please know that you were so much to me. A grandmother, a parental figure, a safe place, a helpful soul, a teacher, and a friend. I miss your pink couch where I would tell you of my crushes, my dreams for the future, and my fears. I miss watching you hug Jenni while telling her "you're just like a granddaughter to me." Now, I know what you were trying to say to her. I miss the way you cooked, throwing ingredients together like you were some Hoosier culinary master, pinching salt and pepper into your recipes like I now do. I miss your crooked walk with your walker, and your silly, inappropriate sense of humor. I miss your stories of how things used to be. I will always remember your arms outstretched wide when you said the punchline of your Peachtree Story: "when the peach tree blooms again." I will miss how you made me feel - like no one ever has - safe, like there was absolutely NOTHING wrong with ME, like I was OKAY, like I was amazing. Grammy, you were everything I needed in times of distress, and I MISS YOU.
Love,
Natalie
