I grieve in bits.Small thoughts that open my heart to the hurt. I knew this would be difficult but I had no idea it would hurt. I have physical pain.
Holt St. was our street, our sidewalk, that backyard, those birds, her flowers, her house, our center. The idea that someday it won’t be ours anymore sits on my chest and I breath stinging short breaths.
The family has started to deal with her belongings. I cannot bear this for it is rooted in a reality I just want to pretend isn’t there. But it is reality. We are temporary. Even this house that has been hers my entire existence is temporary. I haven’t been in the house yet. I can’t comprehend that she isn’t inside.
Last night I took home a bowl I had made for her.
It is one of those horrible memories you wish you could wash away.
The ride home
her bowl in my lap
catching tears.
MeeMaw made me two ceramic kitties. In a move or in some idiotic haste they have been lost. And I feel sick. David says not to beat myself up. But how? I know she wouldn’t care, but I care. I want them. She made them for me, and scratched FB on the bottom, or maybe it is F.B.
Today I grieve these small pieces.
3 comments:
Grieving. It is a process. There are times I still get caught in my tracks when I think about my Grandad. Steve and I are driving to Midland in late April to retrieve some of his belongs that are now mine. I am looking forward to that trip and dreading it all at the same time. My heart hurts with my, my friend.
F.B.
And it is really hard to go to the house that is no longer a home.
I walked the house and the property before we left in Feb. I wanted to see things the way she left it.
I don't remember this bowl...Like the clay ones we made at camp fire girls?
I remember when Memaw got that little Santa Bowl, she just loved it. She held it in her hands like a little birds nest and said to me, " see how round it is, it just fits."
It gave her much joy, that little Santa bowl,
Luv,
Kay
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