| Tuesday | Jun 8, ’09 8:37 PM for Mel ‘s contacts |
Tomorrow morning I am getting up very early, and along with my sister Cara, will make the long drive to Milwaukee. There we will meet my parents and my sister Kristen and her husband Matt.
At one o’clock we will be laying my grandma’s ashes to rest at her headstone, along side her husband, who has been gone since my mother was 17.
I can’t believe the day is already here. I feel like I’ve been waiting for closure for so long… but now that it is here? I want to run from it.
Not having a wake or funeral has enabled me to avoid dealing with the fact she is really gone. I really won’t ever see her again. Never again will I hear one of her back-handed compliments (“your hair is so pretty, but it would be prettier if you cut it once in a while”) or laugh at her fake horror at my choice in footwear. (“where are the rest of your shoes?” I was wearing flip flops.) She loved to make people laugh, though she never would admit that, and I rarely left a visit without a side ache from laughing.
It’s been over a year and I still can’t believe I’ll never bring her a box of kleenix, a tin of cashews or some candy again. I never got tired of watching her use those things up and then accuse the other nursing home residents of stealing them.
At one o’clock we will be laying my grandma’s ashes to rest at her headstone, along side her husband, who has been gone since my mother was 17.
I can’t believe the day is already here. I feel like I’ve been waiting for closure for so long… but now that it is here? I want to run from it.
Not having a wake or funeral has enabled me to avoid dealing with the fact she is really gone. I really won’t ever see her again. Never again will I hear one of her back-handed compliments (“your hair is so pretty, but it would be prettier if you cut it once in a while”) or laugh at her fake horror at my choice in footwear. (“where are the rest of your shoes?” I was wearing flip flops.) She loved to make people laugh, though she never would admit that, and I rarely left a visit without a side ache from laughing.
It’s been over a year and I still can’t believe I’ll never bring her a box of kleenix, a tin of cashews or some candy again. I never got tired of watching her use those things up and then accuse the other nursing home residents of stealing them.
I miss you Grandma, I hope you making people laugh wherever you are.
Smart Mouth 