Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I'm Sad (And It Sucks)
This was my grandma Betty Lou's chair. This is where she liked to spend most of her last days, out on her patio, surrounded by plants, windchimes, hand decorated birdhouses, gurgling water from the small pond behind her, and hoards of people who loved her.
people who LOVE her, i should say. because after all, how do you stop loving someone just because they're gone?
i wish this was one of my funnier entries, about ninja kicking serial killers in my shower, or getting kicked out of someplace because of my quick temper and loud mouth.
but it's not.
my grandma died. and i'm sad. and it sucks.
betty lou was my mom's stepmom. we always just called her betty lou or betty, since we had an overabundance of grandparents. and names really don't matter in the grand scheme of things.
what matters is the way she always talked to and treated my brother and i like we were important. we weren't step-anythings to betty. there were always fun, kid friendly activities planned so that we could have FUN.
what matters is how she used to make mickey mouse pancakes, and bacon in the microwave, which is a skill that still baffles me to this day.
what matters is how she used to let us sit in the "middle front" of the cadillac, and push all the buttons on the console. being the mini-trekker that i was, i loved pretending i was controlling the USS Enterprise. I'm sure this drove my papa crazy.
what matters is how full of LIFE she was. she had interesting stories and anecdotes. she was so spunky and fun loving! we would go whale watching and to old town san diego and to ensanada and even if she didn't partake of a particular activity, she was there actively cheering you on, and taking pictures.
what matters is how she would start to hum a tune, and my papa would chime in, humming the base line.
what matters is how huge her heart was. it didn't matter who you were, you were family. and you were welcome. and did you want to come to the zoo?
after she passed last weekend, i heard my papa refer to her on the phone as "something special." in a way, this sums her up nicely, and in a way, it doesn't really at all. it's almost too vague, but if you were to get specific, you could write a novel that dickens would say was too long.
she was strong, vibrant, and colorful. she was also sweet, loving, and warm.
and i'm sad and it sucks that she won't be at my wedding. she was one of the few who wouldn't roll her eyes to hear of my plans.
and i'm sad and it sucks that i have to go shopping for funeral clothes.
and i'm sad and it sucks that i am once again intimately familiar with the sound of my own soul screaming.
that patio didn't seem to sparkle in the sun the same way it did before she passed. and i'm sad. and it sucks.