What I have been mostly doing since I got back.

It’s awfully funny.  I get back from Miami, drained emotionally, and taking the following week to recuperate.  This lasted until Thursday, the 16th, when grandma passed away.  I had a very good friend, by the name of Tye, come and spend the rest of the day with me after my husband went to work.  After that, all I wanted was to be left alone.  This is when the phone calls and texts started happening.   

I guess my friends knew better what I needed than I did.  It’s good to know.  I think I would still be pretty deep into my mopes if it wasn’t for Ruth, Sassy, Rhonda, Bonnie, and Tye.   I still have the mopes, but I find them much more tolerable now than I did last week.  My family (save my kid, that went with me), have been there every step of the way.  My mother (It was her mom that passed.) and I have been leaning on each other, and my husband and his family have been an absolute blessing.  

I have been busy in my office with my door closed diligently tapping my keys, and creating a new website; however, this means that my business has been suffering a bit because no new pieces have reared their head to be displayed anywhere. Hmmm, seems I have to fix this.  It is true what they say.  You never know who your friends are until you find yourself depressed, and feeling alone.  

To all my friends and family…

Thank you for being there for me. I love you all.

Me on the trip to Miami.

I know.  I haven’t been posting about my exercise, and stuff, but for those of you who have been reading my posts, I think I can be excused.  I believe I have gone from fighting my weight to fighting my depression.  Over the past few days, I have been feasting on comfort foods (meatloaf, mashed potatoes, riblets, and suffering quietly over mac and cheese.)  The last comfort food on my list is fried chicken and collards.  I know where to get the chicken.  I may have to hunt for a while for the collard greens.  I am bloated.  (The scale screamed 210 at me this morning.  I know you can’t possibly gain seven pounds in a couple of weeks, especially when you took two long walks in Miami to clear your head.)

I promised myself a meditation session and some Yoga today.  I have to get back into the groove.  This is my way of fighting the mopes.  I can’t let them win.  The last time I let my depression take over,  I stayed in bed, and didn’t want to leave it any time soon.  So, I am giving it the college try, not that I ever graduated from college.  

I find myself thinking back to all the good times with my grandmother.  I smile and yet, I am sad at the same time.  I know there won’t anymore memories.  Grieving stinks.  I don’t like having this feeling of missing her and not being to see her to feel better.  I guess that’s it.  I am angry that I have to grieve. *shrugs*  That’s another level. I guess.  

Until next time.  God Bless.

I am working through this process called grief. I was never angry at my grandmother. She never asked to be the victim of a stroke. (Sorry. I won’t go into details.) I can be mad at the stroke, but that would be ridiculous. I am not selfish enough to think that she left me; nor am I angry enough think she abandoned me. She didn’t. She never would.

I was never in denial. From the time I heard that she had the stroke and the severity of it, I had a feeling that she wouldn’t make a miraculous recovery. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t all gloom and doom. I just approached it from the point of view of a realist.

I went to see her because I adore here. (I didn’t use past tense on purpose.) I also know that, when people know it’s their turn to go, they have a list of loved ones they wish to see before they take their last nap.

What will miss most is the care packages which have her hand written addresses, her phone calls asking for a family update, her calling me on my birthday, and having one less loved one to call on Mother’s Day (That is going to be when it hits me the hardest.).

My wonderful grandmother

She was the best of our family.  She had a heart as big (if not bigger) than the whole family put together.  God blessed her with kindness, love, compassion, and an iron fist when she needed it.  She loved and cared for all those who walked through her door and called her on the phone.  God blessed us with her for 87 years.  It mattered not if you lived down the street from her, in another city or even another state.  She loved everyone the same.  

She was a proud grandmother and great-grandmother.  She loved all her grands and great grands equally, and was always ready to tell you which was the first.  She spoiled, but only when it was deserved.  She always seemed to know when you needed an extra kiss and hug, and always had desserts in her refrigerator.  She had a nickname for everyone, but they always had meaning behind them.  She was fierce, but loving.  The best grandmother you could possibly be blessed to have.  I know, everybody thinks their their grandmother is the best.  You’ll just have to excuse the bias.  I couldn’t have asked for a better grand.  

God gave her a strong personality to stand for her beliefs, a fierce heart to fight for her family, reinforced shoulders for carrying the weight of her family (and they were really good for crying on as well), and arms that were strong enough to defend all she loved and yet soft enough to hold you up when you were feeling weak.  

If I had to her some her up, God molded her in His image, and sent her down to Earth with out wings or halo.  She was a living breathing guardian angel.  I know she’s earned her wings up there.  God knows she worked hard enough to get them.

Te amo abuela y te hecho de meno mas con cada dia que pasa.

( I love you, Grandma, and I miss you more with every passing day.)

She's not home anymore.

This is the cinder block house my grandmother owned.  Built in the fifties, it weathered many a storm, hosted many a Thanksgiving dinner, and home to the best grandmother anyone could be blessed to have.  When you walked through those doors, she would be there, arms waving you in to give you a hug, and a kiss.  She was firm, but loving, hard, but caring, and she was always ready to give advice, love, and support.  This was home away from home for me, the grandchild who would come from out of state to spend the summer months.

This was the chair that held her when she came home at the end of the day.  She would be up every morning at seven and out the door by eight-thirty the latest.  She would visit each of her children’s houses (She had three that lived close to her.) to check them for orange juice, bread, milk, and eggs.  She would rummage through the grandchildren’s drawers to search for dirty clothes that might have been hidden among the clean laundry. She would go by my uncle’s business and see if he needed her to do anything.  She always made it back home in time to make something for dinner, and be in her recliner in time to watch her soaps.  Never deviating from her routine, she not only taught me about doing for others, and lead by a wonderful example, she also took time for herself.  

When she would come to Georgia from Miami to visit, she would clean house, cook meals, and mend clothing.  At night, she would sit in the basement and watch John Wayne movies with mom, and me.  The three of us would sit, share potato chips, and soda, and grandma would get her John Wayne fix.  We would take her to Dahlonega, GA and she would insist that we buy her a bag of boiled peanuts.  She loved those things.  There were times we would take her to Panama City, FL, and she would have a blast, watching my father bug my mom while she was reading.  

This is just one shelf.

She would collect cups, mugs, and glasses that caught her eye.  The picture to the left is one shelf of many.  She had a collection of shot glasses, mugs, steins, glasses, and coffee cups.  She would snag them and buy them and some were gifted to her.  They are in a large cabinet with mostly glass doors.  Her prized possessions, however, can be seen all through the house.  Everywhere you look, you see pictures of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.  

She is with God now, and no matter who lives in the house, it will never be my home away from home.  No more Grandma to hug me and kiss, scold me, love me, and spoil me.  All the love that she filled that house with will no longer be there, because she is in heaven now.  If there ever was anyone you could nominate for saint-hood, it would be her.  She spent all of her life living for others.  Her heart was as big as the whole family, the neighborhood she lived, and the whole world as I know it.  Now, the house will be empty, cold, and lonely.  

Since I’ve heard about my grandmother’s stroke, my mind has been cycling through all the memories I have of her. She was never the big softy that most people would imagine grandmothers to be. She was strict when it called for it, but had a soft touch and the best hugs when it counted. She is strong, but kind. It made her gifts and rewards that much better.

I am listening to the radio and wishing it would quit playing music that mirrors my mood. Why is it that whenever you are depressed, upset, and worried (or any combination therein) the radio seems to know that, and plays music that doesn’t help? I don’t want to go from depressed to sickeningly happy, but I don’t to spend the entire day wishing I could crawl into a hole and make the world go away.

I think I am going to screw it all and get some chocolate. Forget the diet, and I’ll suffer the allergy. If I can’t be under my covers, I’ll do the next best thing.

So, I am crediting this slow start to the fact that I finally kicked cow milk products to the curb, (I am 100% casein-free due to my allergy.), and I have drastically reduced my gluten intake. I really don’t eat sandwiches anymore, and when I do, it’s a Cuban Sandwich w/o the cheese. *shrugs* We all have our guilty pleasures. I have also added a drastic amount of fruits and veggies, and I am eating brown rice. I love fruits and veggies. Red meat? Very little, and it suits me fine. I love my fish, seafood, and chicken with the other white meat thrown in occasionally.

Now, all I have to do is motivate my lazy self into an exercise regimen, and I will be on my way to 145 pounds in no time.

 You see, I try to be strong, too often I think that if I can just hold on a little longer, that I can everything to work out.  Then, all it takes is one thing, I start falling apart.

There is this sweet little old lady that used to come into the gas station every Sunday.  She used to give me a $20 bill for filling up her tank, and never took that much; so, she would have to come in for change.  One Sunday, her car made it, with her daughter inside it, and not her.  I asked about her.  She told me her mom had a stroke.  This was last year, when everything was cruising along at a nice clip.  Then, last Saturday, she came into the store with her granddaughter.  She stood there looking a little confused, and tried to say something.  Nothing but a jumble of letters came out.  I did everything I could not to fall apart.  It worked, but you see, as she stood there, all I saw was my grandmother, and the fact that she can’t even stand without help.  She won’t eat without being encouraged, and her lungs are only working at 85% percent capacity.  My uncle says that she is acting like a child, but I know it’s because she feels as if she is a burden.  

My mother, son, and I are going to see her on the 9th of Feb.  The more I try my best not to dwell on it, the more I fall apart.  I’m sorry. I can’t finish typing this…  I’m crying too hard.  God, please, give me the strength to face this.