Bereavement Thread

[Bombadillo]

I'm starting this thread because I miss my Grandma and want to express that. She died in April 2006, but I still think of her every day. Since I was born, she obviously went out of her way to leave and indelible impression on me, making me stronger, more confident, and independent. Above all, she was an example to live by; she was a rock, a real force to contend with. I've often thought that she acted as a more of a parent to me than my real parents, because she was so actively, overwhelmingly nurturing and attentive to my feelings. I've always been a person of a very different sort, and so no one (I still believe) ever really knew what was best for me besides myself and exactly one other very special person, and that was her. And of course I never thought of her that way until she was gone. Suddenly I couldn't stop crying. Weeks went by when I was afraid to speak in class for fear of bursting into tears.

When she died, we were all surprised. She had been a fat old alcoholic chain-smoker, sure, but my grandfather was the one in the hospital, slowly fading from life, and no one had the energy to divide their attention. She was steadfast, the strongest of all the circulating cast of family members visiting his bedside on a daily basis. I was anxious as hell over my grandpa, waiting for the moment where he'd snap back to lucidity so he could tell me a war story or two--emergency bonding--there's not much time left. And she drops dead instead, because she didn't have the energy either. My grandpa was gone within three weeks. Words can not express. Words can not express.

I remember this picture: finishing up our meals at the Chinese restaurant were the waiters all new us (My grandma was the Absolute martini, in and out, on the rocks, with olives, very dry.), on the day of the wake for my grandpa. My uncle reads his fortune cookie, slips it back in its wrapper, and smashes it to bits, smashes it over and over, with his glass, splattering his drink all over the place, crying all over himself, and choking just trying to appear composed at least in his face.

The good news is, I did get over it, as they say. My uncle fell into a downward spiral toward a mental hospital for a while, but in time he recovered too. (Didn't I say my grandma was a force to contend with?) Best of all, I've taken something from their deaths. All the good in my grandparents, way beyond the best memories I have of them, all the best parts of their charisma, love, care, wisdom, grace, and unshakable personalities... I carry that all with me to this day. Their virtues were put up on a pedestal for all to see on the days of their funerals, and I never stopped reflecting on them and making them my own ever since. In a way, I believe they died for that reason, for me. They certainly lived for me. I love them like crazy for it.



It's good to talk about. At the time, I used to write about it just to sort through the mess of desperate depression. Anyone who's lost someone they love, which is everyone, should surely know that it's good to talk about. So here on Entmoot let's provide a place to do so. At least it's an outlet. At best we can help with the grief.

Posts are encouraged to be long.