Grandma Helen is gone from this earth. Last week she suffered a stroke that left her completely paralyzed on her left side, unable to speak and unable to swallow. Hospice announced the the prospect didn't look good - and although it left us all numb with grief, it also signified better days were yet to come for Grandma. She often had said she wanted to go home to see Frank. Frank is her husband, the grandpa I never met, who passed away nearly 40 years ago.
Well, today, Grandma finally got her wish...she's in Heaven dancing with Frank. Or so I like to imagine.
It's funny the way the mind and soul rationalizes grief, loss and sadness. You walk yourself through what you think the pain of loss is going to feel like, you give yourself numerous pep talks - and when the long "prepared" moment does in fact come, at first it doesn't feel so bad. You agree with the person who's telling you "She's in a better place", "Her body is healed", "She lived a good life..." For in fact, all of these things are indeed true and in the moment you don't feel the "chip." The "chip" is the small stone of grief, that gets kicked up into your heart when you lose a dear one, a friend, or a family member. It lodges itself deep inside the moment they're gone. At first you may not recognize it, but...when you're left alone with only yourself and your thoughts for a minute, the "chip"....the pain...almost instantly begins to spread and show itself; much like an unstoppable crack in a windshield.
Soon after I got the news from my mom, I decided to take a walk downtown Santa Monica. I needed to get out of the stuffy studio with all the crazy people scrambling around, worried about insignificant problems, yelling at each other for reasons they probably won't remember tomorrow...I just needed to walk.
Walking downtown Santa Moncia when you're trying to clear your mind, does as much good as eating 26 cupcakes when you're on a strict diet. The streets are dirty and littered with homeless people asking for money, the plants are few and far between and the sky is grey with smog. I found myself trying to walk with my eyes closed, trying to imagine I was in solitude. I miss that, I miss the quiet solitude of Michigan. It wasn't hard to be alone with your thoughts there.
I was startled out of my thoughts and my eyes flickered open to the sound of feet shuffling and metal clanking. I looked up to see a little old lady walking directly in front of me with her wheeled walker making unattractive noises as she slowly pushed it in front of shuffling feet. At first I thought maybe God was playing some sort of cruel joke on me. Why in the world would he put a little old lady who almost exactly resembled my recently deceased grandma directly in front of me? Of course the waterfall tears started to come and as I watched her determinedly pushing her walker to her desired location, I wondered what her story was. How in the world did she, such a nice looking old lady, end up smack dab in the middle of Santa Monica pushing her walker past the bums sleeping scattered on the sidewalks? Where was her husband? Did he die a long time ago like Frank? Did she not have any friends to walk with her through the scary parts of town? Where was she going? I inconspicuously followed her for a bit, wondering these thoughts to myself, mixing in my own teary thoughts of my grandma...until I just couldn't take the emotions spreading through my heart anymore and I hurried past her blurry eyed.
The saying "Live life with no regrets" is a rather odd saying to me. It's hard for me to imagine that people can actually go through life with no regrets. Maybe they choose to sweep the regrets under the rug, or hide them in their closets along with the skeletons...but I doubt I could actually find a person who would claim to be truthfully and honestly "regret free." Whether it be not buying that stellar summer dress that makes you look 10 lbs lighter, loosing the much needed job, crashing your car or missing out on the last opportunity to see your grandma. Regrets are apart of life. Regrets really, really...suck.
Tonight I may or may not be beating myself up over not going to see grandma at Thanksgiving this year...one last time before she passed away. Moving out to California was a financial risk all by itself, but when I lost my job at JCTV in October I experience financial hardship like I never want to experience again. It was scary. Traveling for the holidays just seemed completely out of the question. I distinctly remember my little sister saying to me "Christi, if you can't make it home for our birthdays in May, you should try and come to see Grandma...you know, she might not be here for very much longer." I think I responded with something like "Shelli, I want to...but I just can't...I just don't have the money."
Damn money. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
...I took this picture from the Skype conversation James and I had with my family on Thanksgiving Day. It's a bittersweet picture. Beautiful and sad all at the same time...I desperately wish I was in it. Look how big grandma was smiling - she was so happy to have her family all together.
Well, I don't have a pretty way to tie up this blog post. No ribbons or "moral of the story" here tonight. Just a sad little girl with more hard decisions ahead. I wish life was easy, I wish money grew on trees and I wish I knew the all the answers. But, I don't...and so...that's why I cling evermore to my Jesus, for he holds me even at these weak and vulnerable moments.
I love you so much Grandma Helen. Thank you for teaching me how to make the secret Lady Lock cookies, for the many laughter-filled games of Rummikub and for the strong and loving woman you were up until the very end. I cherish the yearly Thanksgiving trips to Pennsylvania to see you and hold the sweet memories close to my heart. Say "hi" to Grandpa Frank for me.
Love, Chrissy
