Something that I have learned in my journey is that no matter how many questions you ask, no matter how many times you tell someone how you feel, it is never enough. And this is much stronger now that I have lost my Mother but having had the experience of loss before she got sick helped me immensely because I knew not to squander my time with her, instead take every minute I could get.
Sitting at the kitchen table with the lights on low, the warmth of familiarity, the cuckoo clock reminding us how late it was getting whether we wanted it to or not. Empty coffee cups sitting in front of us waiting to be refilled. And the smell, the smell of Grandma’s kitchen; it changed slightly with the seasons – gas stove in the winter and fresh cut flowers in the summer – but it was always sweet and reassuringly constant.
My Grandma T and I used to sit for hours talking into the night. We talked about everything; her faith, childhood, children, struggles, regrets, loves and experiences. I learned so much from her. I knew that whatever I was going through she would have advice or a story that would put things in perspective. When I was getting married and the plans weren’t coming out just how I thought they should she stopped me and told me very bluntly to stop whining and how she got married in a grey dress in the depression and they barely had enough money to survive. Well, that puts things into perspective pretty quick.
Those conversations were some of the best moments of my life and I would give anything to have them again. And even when those conversations were happening I had the presence of mind to know that I would treasure those moments. I tried to soak in every word and every story because I knew that those moments wouldn’t last forever. I knew that it would have to come to an end. I just wanted to hang on as long as I could. I loved her very much. I relied on her and trusted her wisdom.
She taught me about regrets and how to avoid them. Grandma had always wanted to learn to oil paint and write stories. But developed macular degeneration before she did the things she wanted and was partially blind when she passed away. With those regrets in her life she told me many times to not put off my dreams because the time will come when you are no longer able to do them. She was a woman of immense faith that I thought could do no wrong. Of course, now I know differently but I still like to hold on to that image of her. She seemed impenetrable. I had the privilege of sitting next to her at my cousin’s funeral one year before my Grandma passed. I held her warm hand and I could feel her strength. At one point I asked her if she was ok. She said, “This is the 17th funeral I’ve been to in this church, including my husband’s. I’m ok.” I knew that she missed her granddaughter very much and never stopped grieving for her.
I can understand why there were times that people didn’t appreciate her bluntness and her honesty. She always seemed to know the things that you didn’t want her to know. She seemed to see right through you. But what she said was always out of love and caring and you could take it as that or leave it. She loved you either way.
When she passed away I was sure that I had asked and said everything that there could be. It didn’t take long before I had the urge to call her up and ask her a question or go to her and ask her to tell some of the stories that she had shared, just to hear them one more time. And now almost 7 years later there are so many things that I would love to talk to her about. I need her wisdom. I need her guidance. I miss her so much. How wonderful it would be to visit around that table just one more time.