26 September 2005

Grammy O.

I think my largest regret is that shortly before my Grammy O. died of leukemia in 1989 I sent her a letter in which I poured out to her my anger with God for causing her to die this hateful cancer-ridden death. I was just about turn 28 years old and she was just about to die days before her 80th birthday (which was 3 days before my birthday). She was one of my very best friends. And I was M. A. D. that she was dying. I knew that everyone has to die. But that was in the theoretical sense. She was my Grammy. She wasn't supposed to die yet and she certainly wasn't supposed to die of this wasting awful disease that stole her in bits and pieces. She was supposed to be here to meet my children and see that LightBoy has her nose and eyes, and my Grampy O's sense of humor. She was supposed to be here to see the quilts that I make on her sewing machine (except that I really couldn't do that on her sewing machine if she were alive and using it). She certainly wasn't supposed to have been diagnosed with leukemia the week after I got married and die less than 2 years later. That was never part of my plan.

I talked to her often. At least two or three times a week, and always in the early mornings. She and I were/are both early birds. I could always count on her being awake to talk early in the morning before I went to work. Early May birds we two. With our birthdays three days, but 50 some-odd years apart. Most of the time now I only miss her a little, but some days something will happen ... and I'm never sure what it is ... but something will happen and I will have this flood of memories or just of missing hurt. Because here's the thing. I have a wonderful mom, but like with all moms, she and I have holes. Places where we just don't fit. And my Grammy O filled in a lot of those places. I've bumped along without her, with her memory holding me togther. But today is one of those days that I just miss her like crazy. And it's just going to be too pea-pickin' long til I see her again.


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