raqueljoy (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} raqueljoy) wrote,@ 2007-03-22 12:23:00 |
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mourning
10 things i know for sure:
1. My grandfather is in heaven. That thought pre-empts all other sadness that can obscure my vision and take my eyes off of the final prize (thank you, James, for the reminder). 96 years is 96 years, eternity is, well, eternity.
2. Listening to my uncles sing "on your first day in heaven" in their barbershop quartet, in my grandfather's living room, will always make me sob.
3. Running outside to get away from everything, and fighting off a viscious dog, was NOT my idea of a fun time. I kid you not. These 3 medium-sized dogs ran at me, teeth bared. My life flashed before my eyes and I cussed at them, kicking one of them off of me. It was one of those surreal moments in life - i.e., is this really happening?
4. To those of you who wrote me about your own grandparents - Hannah, Krista, James...THANK YOU. You don't know how much it meant.
5. I am so glad I got to say goodbye to him...and I am pretty sure he heard me.
6. The fact that he was 96 doesn't make it hurt any less that he's gone.
7. Going into their house, smelling my grandfather's smell AND seeing all his old farm hats in the front closet made me cry even more.
8. My eyes are puffy.
9. Seeing my mom bawl is hard. I am tearing up just thinking about it. I love her.
10. Getting an email from my brother in which he described being able to be there when my grandpa was dying, and signed it with an "I love you", was amazing. He has never signed an e-mail "I love you".
10. Giving Lulu and Asher their baths this morning "takes away some of the sting", as my dad put it.
11. I like Easter candy at times like this.
12. If you look at me the wrong way at this point in time, I might cry.
13. I love the way my son's head smells when he's just gotten done with his bath and all 12 pounds of him is curled up next to me. It makes me smile through the tears.
I was 14, we were on our way to the livestock auction. "Grandpa? Is it fun to drive?" He pulls over, looks at me. "Well? What are you waiting for? Take the wheel!" "Um... Do my parents know?" "Won't the cops pull us over?" (Obviously I haven't been in rural North Dakota too long.) "Ah, come on! Don't be a baby! Just drive!" I still balked, he groaned, drove us the rest of the way.
When we were there, watching the crapping cows, it dawned on me that these gnarly old farmers weren't buying them for pets. "What's going to happen to that little calf?"
"Missy, where do you think your hamburgers come from?"
He bought me a treat, we rode home.
That was a fun day.
Gah, here I go tearing up again. My mom asked me to help with some of the grammar in his obituary. I did that, and told her we needed to add that he was a "stubborn Swede" - otherwise the obituary wouldn't be accurate. My uncle said, "Oh, we're rewriting the obituary now?" I started crying. Then I started worrying that maybe he saw some stories lying out on the table I had written about my grandpa and that I was remembering him the wrong way.
Why am I so sensitive?
So much family is coming today. It will be a time of crying, laughing, remembering.
My memories of my grandpa are just that - mine...stubborn, sometimes grumpy, imperfect grandpa.
I loved him so.
10 things i know for sure:
1. My grandfather is in heaven. That thought pre-empts all other sadness that can obscure my vision and take my eyes off of the final prize (thank you, James, for the reminder). 96 years is 96 years, eternity is, well, eternity.
2. Listening to my uncles sing "on your first day in heaven" in their barbershop quartet, in my grandfather's living room, will always make me sob.
3. Running outside to get away from everything, and fighting off a viscious dog, was NOT my idea of a fun time. I kid you not. These 3 medium-sized dogs ran at me, teeth bared. My life flashed before my eyes and I cussed at them, kicking one of them off of me. It was one of those surreal moments in life - i.e., is this really happening?
4. To those of you who wrote me about your own grandparents - Hannah, Krista, James...THANK YOU. You don't know how much it meant.
5. I am so glad I got to say goodbye to him...and I am pretty sure he heard me.
6. The fact that he was 96 doesn't make it hurt any less that he's gone.
7. Going into their house, smelling my grandfather's smell AND seeing all his old farm hats in the front closet made me cry even more.
8. My eyes are puffy.
9. Seeing my mom bawl is hard. I am tearing up just thinking about it. I love her.
10. Getting an email from my brother in which he described being able to be there when my grandpa was dying, and signed it with an "I love you", was amazing. He has never signed an e-mail "I love you".
10. Giving Lulu and Asher their baths this morning "takes away some of the sting", as my dad put it.
11. I like Easter candy at times like this.
12. If you look at me the wrong way at this point in time, I might cry.
13. I love the way my son's head smells when he's just gotten done with his bath and all 12 pounds of him is curled up next to me. It makes me smile through the tears.
I was 14, we were on our way to the livestock auction. "Grandpa? Is it fun to drive?" He pulls over, looks at me. "Well? What are you waiting for? Take the wheel!" "Um... Do my parents know?" "Won't the cops pull us over?" (Obviously I haven't been in rural North Dakota too long.) "Ah, come on! Don't be a baby! Just drive!" I still balked, he groaned, drove us the rest of the way.
When we were there, watching the crapping cows, it dawned on me that these gnarly old farmers weren't buying them for pets. "What's going to happen to that little calf?"
"Missy, where do you think your hamburgers come from?"
He bought me a treat, we rode home.
That was a fun day.
Gah, here I go tearing up again. My mom asked me to help with some of the grammar in his obituary. I did that, and told her we needed to add that he was a "stubborn Swede" - otherwise the obituary wouldn't be accurate. My uncle said, "Oh, we're rewriting the obituary now?" I started crying. Then I started worrying that maybe he saw some stories lying out on the table I had written about my grandpa and that I was remembering him the wrong way.
Why am I so sensitive?
So much family is coming today. It will be a time of crying, laughing, remembering.
My memories of my grandpa are just that - mine...stubborn, sometimes grumpy, imperfect grandpa.
I loved him so.
