Grief -- the deep sorrow caused from someone's departure in your life -- is such an interesting concept.
I've found there is nothing small about grief. But there are both small moments and big moments when you experience your grief. Lately it is the small ones that creep up on me and stick with me the longest. Like ordering our most recent family photos and Crosby's two year portraits. We had two less "staple" people to order for this time. It felt like a punch in the gut. And now we're approaching Christmas card season and I feel that deep sorrow by such a "small" moment all over again. Not being able to write Granny or Gramma Myers on the list. It just drives home the reality once again that these people are gone from us.
One of the biggest feelings accompanying my grief these days is guilt. I could have and should have seen them more. Spent more time calling them and visiting them. Not out of some sense of obligation but because I genuinely know what I am missing out on now. I didn't see it clearly when they were still here and I failed to make the most of my time with them.
It's been an entire month without Granny. And I have yet to put into words what the woman meant to me. I've been putting it off. Telling myself I'm not ready... that there is no rush... and I need to wait until I can get it just right. But I don't know if or when that time will ever come.
For me writing is therapeutic. My words flow out of me, almost like I can't stop them. When both Darryl and Gramma Myers died, I automatically started writing. I didn't make the choice to say something about them rather I just couldn't help but write in those moments. And I'm so proud of the the reflection of the people I love within those two pieces of writing. I expected the same thing to happen for Granny. But every time I approach that door of trying to write from my heart about Granny, I just cannot open it. Even now I feel choked up. Almost like I can't breathe. And it's not that I'm afraid to cry or to feel but I can't find appropriate time to do that with the kids around me just about 24 hours a day every day. And then there is the guilt that I feel so broken up over losing Granny, as if it's not my place to feel such huge grief over losing her. Like I should get my shit together and keep it together to accept the grief of others around me, closer to her.
Grief and guilt and gridlock.
So while this is a post about Granny, it's not THE post about Granny.
More on that later.
It's been an entire month without Granny. And I have yet to put into words what the woman meant to me. I've been putting it off. Telling myself I'm not ready... that there is no rush... and I need to wait until I can get it just right. But I don't know if or when that time will ever come.
For me writing is therapeutic. My words flow out of me, almost like I can't stop them. When both Darryl and Gramma Myers died, I automatically started writing. I didn't make the choice to say something about them rather I just couldn't help but write in those moments. And I'm so proud of the the reflection of the people I love within those two pieces of writing. I expected the same thing to happen for Granny. But every time I approach that door of trying to write from my heart about Granny, I just cannot open it. Even now I feel choked up. Almost like I can't breathe. And it's not that I'm afraid to cry or to feel but I can't find appropriate time to do that with the kids around me just about 24 hours a day every day. And then there is the guilt that I feel so broken up over losing Granny, as if it's not my place to feel such huge grief over losing her. Like I should get my shit together and keep it together to accept the grief of others around me, closer to her.
Grief and guilt and gridlock.
So while this is a post about Granny, it's not THE post about Granny.
More on that later.
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