A Sunday like any other. I get up, drink my coffee, and get ready for work at nine. Except this Sunday I am not feeling too well. I have the sniffles, and I am having a bit of trouble swallowing. I blame it on the fact that the weather keeps changing, and my poor immune system can’t seem to keep up. Oh well, I will persevere. Life doesn’t quit because I have the sniffles.
On another note, I have gotten to the other side of the mopes, and I am feeling like myself again. I know I will miss her, but she is in a much better place. My wonderful husband and all my caring friends have been there every step of the way. Thank you all.
Monday will have more details. After all, I have wellness updates to post. 🙂
…or how to tell when your friends are the real deal.
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.
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.
Woke up this morning wide awake, and ready to face what laid ahead. As I began to really wake up, I started to get the mopes. (That’s what I call it anyway.)
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.).
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.)
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.
Yes, we have arrived. We got here last night. The first thought was about what new pieces of furniture she had in her house, and how different it was going to look. She’s always changing something;so, it was a natural reaction. We grabbed our bags, and mom unlocked the front door. Then it hit me the empty recliner.
Years of coming here and seeing her in that chair, smiling and waving us over to hug and kiss her, and she’s not there. Her remote sits on the stand next to it waiting, but there is no grandma there to flip the channels and look for her soaps. No warm smile and sharp tongue to poke at you make you laugh. Just a chair waiting for someone to sit in it. I knew this was going to be a tough trip, but the house is so lifeless without her…