My head is spinning and I am so out of touch with everything. (I need to disappear for a while.)
Sometimes, my parents are so incredibly right and it is both the best and worst thing. I so wish I had spent more of my life listening, rather than rebelling against anything that came out of their mouths. (But, I will never admit that to you.)
“I mean, it used to be so romantic to go to a movie— to sit in a great big theater that had a balcony, and boxes, and fabulous gilt trim on the walls, and a big red velvet curtain. Now we go to horrible unadorned grey rectangles where the sound bleeds in from the grey rectangles right next door. It’s sad.” -Nora Ephron
Photos of the past few days.
My favourite, reunited after two years (and two boys being thrown into the picture.) The grandchildren’s flowers, Jelly bean russian roulette (I got dog food, bogey’s and baby wipes.) Mama and I on the plane. A good day for my Grandmother’s send off, being up in the sky and the view from the plane as we set off.
I saw love yesterday, in it’s purest form — and it broke my heart.
I guess that is what life all boils down too. Losing your significant other, the other half of you: much more than a lover, a best friend. One day it’ll all get the better of us, and then we are left alone to replay the memories in our heads until our time comes.
I watched my grandfather throughout the service, through teary eyes. His composure was astounding — but, then came the end, and the curtains closed around my grandmother, a final goodbye. No longer able to visit the chapel of rest to kiss her forehead and hold her hand, talking to her lifeless body only because her face gave you that comfort, those years. And with that disappearing, my grandfather kissed the wedding ring from her, which now lives on his little finger. And he whispered I love you. And that, that was my breaking. That is burnt in my memory, replaying and sending a sob to my throat each and every time.
We all grew teary, but it was beautiful. Welsh songs, a little cousin unable to reach the podium and a eulogy that left us laughing, hard. She would have been proud. But back at home, it was haunting. Walking passed the room she was once painfully bed bound in, to the yard where she used to sit with us as we played. I remembered everything at once and yet, nothing really at all. The small things.
In the kitchen, my grandfather cried on my shoulder as we spoke of our memories of her. I couldn’t help but begin to cry too: just feeling his weeping, hearing the pain in his voice and seeing the sadness. It was the worst feeling I’ve ever felt. He apologized for making me cry. (Selfless. God damn it.) Then walked out of the room, only to come back with gifts. A necklace for me: a locket, with a small embroidering on the front, that she had created herself. Her eternity ring for my Aunt, a ring she often wore from my Great Aunt Sissy, to my cousin. Everyone received something, a token, a part of her. And then we all sat around, looking through all the photos of her, of her life, and reading her poems from her journals — “Happy anniversary to the both of us, After 49 years we won’t need a lot of fuss, You can have a drink or two and a cup of tea, And we’ll chat about old memories that belong to you and me.” I just, I can’t put into words how sad I feel for him. How I wish I could have stayed longer, I wish I could have been there when she passed away. I’m just so far from all my family, and it truly hurts. It hurts like hell.
I guess, I just hope I am lucky enough to have someone love me the way my Granddad loved my Grandmother. I’ve never felt so much love in one room, one man. It was overflowing. It was overwhelming. It was beautiful. (I will miss you. I will miss you so damn much.)
“One more step around the world I go, One more step around the world I go, From the Old things to the New, Keep me travelling along with you. And it’s from the old I travel to the new, Keep me travelling along with you.”