tonight...
tonight, i spent hours looking through etsy shops for christmas presents. there are so many wonderful things to be found. and, suddenly i found a shop with these delightful polymer clay pendants and pins and such...and there it was. the perfect christmas gift for you. a hummingbird. i almost clicked to add it to my shopping cart. but, then i remembered. you are gone. and the sucker-punching wave of grief crashed onto me. this is how it works. i forget for just a second. because most of the time i really really remember. but sometimes, i will forget for just this one little moment and it will seem like you are here and that i might just call you tomorrow to tell you all about my day and hear about the birds at your feeder and how grandpa drives you just a bit crazy and how you are looking forward to seeing my mom for thanksgiving and how you plan to send me money to buy the ornaments this year because you are too tired to go out of the house. and you will laugh when i tell you that i actually cooked dinner tonight because you always ask me what i plan to make my husband and i usually sputter some answer about how he cooks or that we plan to get sushi again. but this time i will be able to say that i actually made stew and we sat at the table and drank wine and talked. and then we can talk about how i am planning on buying only handmade christmas gifts this year and that i found the perfect one for you, but you will have to wait until next month to see what it is. and then you will say that it has been so long since you have seen me at christmas and that you are wondering if jon and i might think about coming to see you and gramps. and then i will say that would be really wonderful and we can have a quiet christmas just the four of us. and it will be just like when we went to myrtle beach and it was like two couples on vacation together. and i remember sitting on the balcony next to you while you did the crossword and i was looking out at the ocean thinking about how lucky i am because how many girls are there in the world who have been married for a few months and take their new husband on a vacation with their grandparents who have been married for 57 years and yet have the best time together. and i remember turning and looking at you and smiling. and now, as i sit here in this quiet house with candles burning and rain pushing against the roof, i can see you in my mind and because i am listening so closely to the voice that lives in my heart i hear your laughter and your words and i know. i know. i know...but i guess i also just need you to know how much i miss you and i miss the idea of you and all that could have been and all that was. so i am going to sit here for a little while and just pretend that you are still here and that i am going to call in the morning as i put the tea kettle on and then, as i begin to spread peanut butter on my toast, i will hear you say that you are hoping we might come for christmas this year. and i will be surprised because you seldom ask for anything but i will say yes, i think that is a wonderful idea, and when i hang up the phone i will smile widely because i know i will see you in a few short weeks…i am just going to sit here for a few minutes and pretend.
on grieving (and healing)
Reader Comments (19)
Oh Liz, lovely girl, bless you with your open heart! You have me doing the ugly kinda crying now, just a big pile of snot and tears on my sofa all the way over here in London, thinking of Marnie, who was a cousin, but served as grandmother (ours was too troubled to concentrate on that job much). Marnie was an essential part of Christmas and I miss her more at this time of year than at any other. In fact I've just made a little artist book inspired by her Christmas cake recipe as a kind of memorial. Snuggle up, wrap yourself in her love, take care of yourself.
oh liz, dear sweet soul...this is the most beautiful gathering of words i have read in so long. thank you for sharing your warm heart. xo
what a wonderful gift of words you've shared with all of us.
I listened to a wise and tender woman talk to a man about his grief over his lost niece - frustration boiled within himself that he "can't get over it". Her reply was "There is nothing to 'get over'. We don't 'get over' love and when you find yourself remembering her, so real - the smell of her hair, the feel of her cheek, the sound of her laugh - she is visiting you. If someone sees your tears at that moment and asks 'are you sad', you will be able to say 'I'm visiting with my niece. I'm ecstatic!'"
Your beloved grandma visits you often. What a tender, tender gift and thank you for sharing it.
I believe in pretending.
It is a good place sometimes.
I completely agree with switchsky--in the short-term I think it can be used well...when my brother died, I spent that whole first year pretending he was still away at college. Obviously, even at that young age, I knew otherwise--but it got me through those first months and I think it had a role in my healing.
Love,
D.
I truly cannot express in words how deeply this touched my soul. How I can barely see the keys through the tears as I type.
That was such a beautiful beautiful post-I just don't know how to put into words the tingles and the tears-and that I so get it-a small smile through the tears-cause that is something you might have said-I get it.
I love you
I have no words...because words do no justice...just some tears and a heart that is full both from your words, as well as care and warm hugs that I wish I could give you right now.
It is now morning. I hope that you had a good sleep that your heart feels better this morning...and...and...sigh.....
.... I am sending you love. xoxoxo
i know this feeling all to well, i love the way you talked it out, felt it deeply and longingly...much love.
Liz, this touches a tender place for me. It's good to know I'm not the only one who needs to pretend sometimes.
oh, sweetie...
(hug)
i get this. whenever i used to need my mama, i'd get in the shower and talk to her, sending out an "s.o.s". what does a person do when the one person who they really need is on the other side of the veil? my heart is sending yours a hug.
but i feel very strongly that you should buy the hummingbird anyway. maybe it could be your talisman...it's just a thought...
oh sweetie...
i am at work
and still that brought me to tears.
you have captured that moment,
that feeling, that longing,
that need to hold onto the
forgot-was-real sensation of
it-is-like-it-never-happened,
it-is-like-nothing-changed-and-
i-am-just-going-to-go-with-it...
you have captured it and portrayed it perfectly...
and i feel for you
sending you hugs and hugs and hugs.
your grandmother was a lucky woman liz, enjoy your pretending for a moment or two, not a bad idea. beautiful, heart filling words.
heather
I hope someone has beautiful memories of me like that when I´m gone.
it's been a long time since i last visited your blog. I have no idea why i stayed away so long. Your writing is just beautiful.
This post left me in awe, 'cause i know this feeling. it is in my heart and sometimes i forget too. so i'm sending you much love and a hug.
thank you for sharing this beautiful post.
Liz,
You are making me cry this sunday morning thinking of lost loved ones. Your grandmother sounds lovely, such beautiful memories of her that you can hold in your heart. Thanks for being so open and real.
this is so beautiful liz, take good care of yourself honey.
from flickr it looks like an anniversary was celebrated - love. xo
I am sobbing remembering these feelings for my grandmother also.
thank you for spilling your truth and your beauty...keep doing it girl because the world needs it...
this is such a beautifully painful piece of writing ... it's brave and loving. I'm glad you can feel and miss and pretend ... I tried to shut out the hurt and grief when I lost my grandmother and I wish I had given myself more time to have these kind of conversations. xx, deb