Begin Again.

I haven’t posted anything since October, a few days before Grandma passed away.

In my last post, I wrote about trying to get a bug out of my car and killing it in my attempts to set it free. I sat in the passenger seat while Mark drove us to the hospital to visit my grandmother. The Dodgers were playing in the first game of the World Series. Mark and I both wore blue and listened to the game on the way to the hospital.

At the hospital, we turned the game on the television. Grandma told us, in between moans, how she and Grandpa used to get season tickets. I’ve never seen her in so much pain. She shut her eyes tightly, crying aloud, her body tense and clenched. The pain would come in waves and last about a minute or so. She told us she waited to take the pain meds so she wouldn’t be out of it during our visit. I asked her to please take the meds.

At one point Grandma said, “Okay, I’ll have alcohol now.” She laughed.

“What did you say?” I said. “Say it again so I can get you on camera.”

We all laughed.

I never saw my grandmother drink alcohol my entire life. She never drank. But she drank Pepsi like water. Before we left for the hospital I asked if she needed anything. The answer was, “A cold Pepsi.”

I knew from seeing her in so much pain and the alcohol comment that this was not a good sign.

At some point she finally got her meds and the pain decreased.

The Dodgers beat the Astros that night 3-1. I was glad she got to see it. And I was thankful my husband was there with us. He always made her laugh. We had a great visit despite the pain, there was Pepsi, Dodgers and laughter.

I felt guilty leaving her but her pain had subsided and Mark and I were starving.

We kissed her goodbye, told her we loved her and we’d see her again soon.

Mark and I left and as we walked toward the parking structure, Mark playfully grabbed me and pulled me into the stairwell for a romantic kiss. We kissed and laughed at our cheesy affections.

We went to sushi for dinner. Mark talked a lot with the sushi chef and the chef kept handing us things we didn’t order. But everything was delicious. I think he enjoyed our company.

I told Mark how appreciative I was that he went to see Grandma with me. And how I was so happy that he made her laugh.

We ate too much sushi, drank some beer and sake and felt comforted for the night.

Five days later Grandma passed away and the Dodgers lost game five of the series. Mark and I were there, along with other family members and friends, and it was a very long and heart wrenching day. There was a sense of peace when Grandma finally let go but I had yet to let go.

And I stopped writing for a number of reasons but mostly because I felt lost.

Well, I don’t feel as lost anymore but I’m still working on letting go.

There is so much I could write about her. I could fill a book. And maybe one day I will.

The one thing I will say is: she wanted to be the one, the only, the capital “G” – Grandma. She hated when I would say grandma followed by her name because she wanted to be number one.

Well, Grandma, you were it. My number one “G,” best G-Ma eva. I will love you always.

Little Life Moments.

I tried to save a bug tonight. Actually, I tried to get it out of my car. It sat beside the windowsill of the passenger seat. I lowered the glass with the press of a button. Once it was down, I flicked the bug but it fell further down the side door. I flicked it again and tore its body apart. The bug died at my attempts to set it free.

When I sat down to write, this was the first thing I could think of. And I can’t tell you why, but moments like this stick out in my mind. Little life moments that last only seconds or minutes. They come and go swiftly like the wind.

Speaking of wind, another moment that struck me today was the way the dry leaves tumbled across the grass. They remained low to the ground like wheels rolling on the pavement. The leaves rolled on the earth with force from the wind. And they traveled like a herd of fallen stars.

Does this mean anything? What’s the significance?

I don’t know. It’s just what I remembered. And I felt like writing it down.

Where the Wildflowers Grow.

Mia had a cross country race on Saturday. Before every race, we walk the course. I walked alongside her and the other parents with their children in her age group.

There was a part of the track that was covered with shade from the hillside and trees, bushes and plants. It felt like a tunnel through the wild. But at one point, in the dark, the sun found a way in. Mia pointed to its rays of light like lazer beams through the holes in the leaves. She stopped to comment on beauty of it. And I shared in her sentiments.

This is how I feel right now. I feel like I’m trekking through the wilderness covered in shade. The terrain is rough, rocky and “unpredictable” (the word Mia used to describe the race that day). But here I am, walking along with one of the loves of my life, on a beautiful path;  and although it’s dark, the light never fails to show up and be known.

I acknowledge this part of the journey. I no longer wish to fight it or swat it away like the annoying fly that likes me. I will walk through it knowing I am loved, I am not alone, and the light will always find a way in. I walk forward knowing I will walk out into an open field under the sun where the dragonflies swarm and the wildflowers grow.

 

“You belong among the wildflowers. You belong somewhere you feel free.”  

~ Tom Petty ~