"To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." Thomas Campbell "Hallowed ground"

Grief is something that takes a while to process. I suppose there are 'exptected' timeframes, but, I'm of the beleif that it is individual. After my Grandmother died, I spent some time with a counselor, working through my grief. Next month it will be two years since my Grandmother died....and last year on the anniversary I sequestered myself at home and just honored my feelings. I feel like, for the most part, I've worked through the heavy parts.

My Grandmother had Osteoporosis so bad that she began to suffer spontaneous breaks and fractures in her hip and pelvis. Eventually, the breaks were too severe and the Osteo was so bad that she was bedridden and I moved in and took care of her at the end of her life. (Personally, I think she knew how bad the osteo was, but, played dumb, and it was her way out of this life so she could be with my Grandfather again....) In other words, I was prepared for her death in a very clear way. I knew my Grandmother well, we are alot alike. Anyway, I feel the hardest part of the grieving process for me, was letting go of her 'things', as they somehow seemed an extension of her and as long as they were around, she was still around.

One of the things my Grandmother was known for is her massive collection of salt & peppers, at last count, there were over 1700 sets! She had a large home with a very large formal living room that became her miniature museum of salt & peppers.....as a family, not one of us could keep the whole collection together in anyone's home and for the most part, my Mother and Aunt did not want them. We each kept a few for ourselves, but, then went about selling the salt & peppers in a booth in the local antique plaza - "The Antique Trove". My Mom, Sister and I set up a booth with the curio cabinets that most of the s&p's were displayed in and the 3 of us cultivated our little shop. Each week we would stop in and rotate the stock and add as we needed. I even briefly took a paying job at The Trove and spent some time learning about antiques and collectibles. I believe this experience helped me tremendously process my grief.....

Our booth was adorable and we had a shop name and business cards and the story of how we acquired such a collection was prominently displayed in the booth. I was able to talk about my Grandmother adnaseaum, if I wanted to and I believe that helped me....to talk about her and to honor her memory by telling her story every chance I got. And being at The Trove was like being in the past....sort of dwelling in a time before her passing.

After I quit working at The Trove and we closed down our booth (the remainder of the collection was taken over by my Aunt and her husband and they are selling them on ebay), I did not go in to The Trove, I just quit going in there....before we had our booth their I visited quite often, as I love antiques, but, once we closed down the booth I stayed away. Until yesterday......

When I walked in I was overcome by a wave of memories. I began to wander around, up and down the aisle like I did when I worked there....I was very familiar with the other vendors and the things they carried and I had a path I followed when I would go in there. I began my usual course and meandered through....and I slowly began to feel my Grandmother and wave after wave of memories of her just washed over me. As I rounded the corner of the aisle where our booth was, I began to tear up.....the booth no longer exists, they've remodeled and our little booth is now an extra big booth that sells over priced antique furniture. I felt silly, because I wanted our booth to still be there....just as it was when we were 'shopkeepers'. I wanted that familiar look of her things, right there, displayed for my viewing pleasure. But, they were gone and so is She.

The rest of the day my Grandmother lingered with me. Even today, She is permeating my thoughts. Is this lingering grief or just memories sneaking up on me? My Mom says my Grandmother visits her sometimes in the night, when she's asleep....She visits me, too, but, yesterday, She was more palpable, more present. I miss her.

The Long Goodbye..............

So, on the eve before I begin my final hours in my Grandparents home, I find myself sorting through photos I have taken of this place in the last 18 months. It blows me away, the changes that have occured out here in just that short time. It hardly looks or feels the same. And, yet, my Grandparents still haunt me here. I miss them. My heart is heavy with the departure on the horizon and my poor Father is doing everything he can to soften the blow.....the harder he tries, the more blunders he makes. I know I have to go and my whole heart is crying, "I am sorry Mom and Papa, I did the best I could and if I could have done better I would have". I feel like I'm abandoning them with every box I pack and every old item I leave behind. Regret dogs me once again as I look around and wonder how we might have done things differently. So, much to write about, without a clue where to begin. When I moved out here to care for Mom J, the grounds were horribly overgrown and completely unkempt. We did have a friend keeping the possiblity of fire hazard at bay, however, the over growth at the front door was pretty 'Munsters' like. But, shortly after I moved out here we began cleaning things up as we knew that we'd be selling the house at some future point. I took photos of each step, because that's what I do and also while Mom J was still alive I would show her the pictures of our progress. We had landscapers out here twice to sort out the front and back yards....the second gig was a set of Twin Brothers, Wes and Wayne....they were adorable and very nice and they did a kick ass job...anyway, I photographed the job as we went along so they would have the photos for their own 'portfolio'. I have many pics of this old place over the span of our adventures out here. I even have this fabulous series of "cowboy portraits" that I took of some of THE most hunky cowboys you ever want to see....and maybe someday, I'll showcase them here!!!! But, that's another blog altogether. I have some really great shots in black and white, taken with a 'FILM' camera, you remember those, right, they called them 35mm SLR's....ha ha ha ha....some of the old corral in various stages of disrepair and some of the ol' barn. Mom J got the biggest kick out of my use of the old place for my portraiture and usually my subjects enjoyed our photo shoots out here just as much. I always felt Papa out there with me and my subjects as we captured their images. One time, a couple of years after Papa died I came out to the Ranch on his birthday, with a bouquet of flowers and tied them to a post at the corral in memoriam of him. I sat in the back of my truck in the middle of the pasture for hours, just talking to him. We tried to solve some of the World's problems, but, obviously, we were not very successful. I miss him and his drawl. So, tomorrow my sister is coming out to help me with the final boxes and I think more than anything I asked her to come out here so that I won't be too alone with my thoughts. There will be one final 'removal' that will be the hardest, my grandparents had separate bedrooms for all of my life and shortly after they moved into the Ranch, as a handmade Christmas present my sister and I made them signs for their bedrooms - Mom for Mom J's room and Papa for his room - out of bread dough clay and stained wood. To this day those signs still hang over their bedroom doors - tomorrow I will bring them down and pack them with some of the remaining memorabilia that I have yet to box. It will then be official - Mom and Papa will have left the building........

"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)....e.e. cummings

I had a draft prepared for a different post tonight....but, my evening drafted a new one. I've mentioned before that I am moving out of my Grandparent's home, so, I suspect there will be more posts about the move and the Grands before the move finally happens. The amount of memories for me in this house is astounding. After Mom J died, I made this house my home. We made a pretty good effort of purging old outdated items that had no real sentimental value, early on, but, there were items we just weren't sure what to do with and so, we boxed them up and stashed them. Well, for obvious reasons, we can't just leave them stashed anymore.....someone has to take ownership of them and move them. While I'm happy to be that person, it still means I have to move these items. Therefore, since I live alone and am doing most of this packing alone, I find myself steeped in memories. I miss my Grandmother. You cannot know how much. I spent most of last year mourning her and working through my grief, however, occaisionally I cannot help myself, but, I am overcome by a sense of loss I cannot describe. We were very close and I cared for her as she died, so, my connection to her is very deep and spiritual and sometimes, I just cave. Sometimes, I feel like a part of my soul left with her. I feel her presence here. Sometimes, I even smell her. She wasn't one of those women who wore fragrance, in fact, she hated perfumes, they bothered her hayfever, but, she had her own scent, something I will never forget. When she died, we discussed cleaning out her room and getting rid of her things, but, I stopped everyone and asked if we could wait for awhile, I wasn't ready to just pack her up and whisk away her essence. Of course they respected my wishes and we waited. There were personal things in her room that I knew others might want, so, when I was ready, we went through her room and those who wanted things took what they wanted and what was left I decided to hold onto for a little longer. Sometimes, well, lot's of times, I take my younger sister for granted and tonight I was reminded of this. Because I was moving things around and emptying closets for the move, I had to empty out the closet in what once was my Grandmother's bedroom. There in the bottom of the closet were three boxes, labeled in my sister's handwriting, personal items of my Grandmother's that I was not ready to let go of. My Sister had lovingly packed and labeled these boxes and stashed them away for me, so that I did not have to make decisions about their disposition at a time when I was so close to my grief. Each box had an assortment of items, related to each other, or rather, similar in possible sentimental value, framed photos that were on the dresser in her room, empty jewelry gift boxes, from ages past, some old prescription eye glasses, small notes, photographs my Grandmother had slipped under a piece of glass on top of her dresser or nightstand....of us kids at various ages, music boxes she displayed around her room, these items have true historical value and will be properly stored for a time when we or I will want to reminisce. But, the box that I could not get past was the box with just a few items, which again, my dear Sister, packed with great love, it was the box that contained my Grandmothers pocket book and her night gowns. Just those items, the gowns freshly washed and folded and the pocket book as it was the day my Grandmother last used it. I miss her. I miss her laugh when something really tickled her. Her voice when she was whispering, which was never really a whisper because she wasn't the type of woman who much cared about what others thought and would just say what SHE thought, anywhere, anytime (much to my Mother's chagrin and embarrassment). I miss her arrival at family parties. She would pull up in her Burgundy Monte Carlo, pristine in it's condition, and all the kids would call out, "Mom Jerrye is here" and several of us would fall out the front door and go out to help her haul in all the stuff she always brought with her.....usually a six pack of every type of soda everyone of her grandkids drank, ice, usually paper products appropriate to the event we were celebrating, maybe her own chair, depending on where we were and the ever popular Hostess gift. I miss the Hostess gift. I miss her hugs and the way she stuck out her chin so you would kiss her on the cheek....eventually she put less effort into that and I began kissing her on the forehead. I miss her ascerbic wit and dry humor and curiosity. I miss her intuitive eyes, keen and sharp. Even as her red hair faded and grayed and her face weathered and wrinkled, her eyes remained piercing and inquisitive. Yes, I believe there will be more mourning, more grief and more memories to sift through. I did not remember that my Sister had tucked away those boxes and while I am sad tonight after their discovery, I am grateful to her for her foresight to pack them as she did and for the love she imparted in her efforts to honor our Grandmother and respect my grief. I will remember to thank her for her gift.