remembering: sounds
her voice saying "come on" as she insists we walk around outside right after breakfast
the ritual of water running as soap is squirted and dishes slide, then knock together
flip flops clopping as we walk to the indoor pool and giggle when we see that again we have it all to ourselves
the guest room/her bedroom door creaking as she peeks to see if i am awake yet
the brush placed on the vanity when she finishes brushing her hair
laughter as she watches my brother and me slide down the backyard hill in our green sleds
her annoyed voice saying "honey" when i try to test her just a bit
the word "hello" just after my grandfather hands her the phone
the wooden spoon stiring sloppy joes on the stove
there is more...so much more...but i can't seem to find it tonight...the sense of seeing wants to take over the memories, but i want to remember the sounds...the sounds of almost thirty years of love and laughter and friendship and home...i want to remember how her voice said every word to me. but i can't. it seems lost tonight...but it was yesterday as i stood in the kitchen and began to measure flour and baking powder and nutmeg that i heard her voice. i heard her and i realized why i have stayed out of the kitchen these last few years. why i have come up with excuses to let jon cook most of the time or to get takeout. me, a person who actually likes cooking. it is because as soon as i start measuring things, i think about her. i think about calling her and asking her a question but then i have to remember that she isn't there. it happens almost everytime. i used to call with questions i didn't really have just to have an excuse to talk to her about cooking or house stuff as she was so proud to help me figure out my first home and cooking for my husband and all that wife stuff. and i wanted to learn from her and hoped she would feel good helping me as life seemed to be slipping away. i think though...i think i am going to try to spend a bit more time in the kitchen because maybe...maybe if i spend time measuring and turning the pages of cookbooks and filling the house with the smells of home i will remember the sounds...i will remember the sounds of her voice and it won't seem quite like it is all slipping away with each day that passes...maybe she will travel back to me for just a moment and i will remember.
on grieving (and healing), remembering
Reader Comments (15)
Your words touched my soul. Bless you. You do remember the sounds, for I could hear them in your words. I could feel your love for her - and her for you.
I could hear the brush set down. I could hear the questions being asked . . . just because.
I do that.
this one
made me cry
a little...
you have really
captured
that
feeling...
that longing,
that need
in these words.
i know that longing.
oh, i know that longing, too. i really do. ben has been gone for nearly three years, and i am still (and even more) wishing that he could be right there with us on christmas morning, that he would be calling me on the phone and that this time around i would not be annoyed that he had had perhaps too much to drink, that i would not resent the timing, or the time. he is here with me, i know that much, but sometimes an actual hug would be so good. i miss those hugs. what i have learned from his loss, a huge lesson for me, is to cherish the moments with my loved ones now, as they happen. MAKE the moments happen.
your love for your grandmother is very strong still, and hers for you as well. hold onto that. you seem to be doing a fine job of that, dear friend. xo
This is such a beautiful post. I understand.
I understand.
I had not used my husband's grandmother's pie plate much since she died, but I used it this Thanksgiving. We were not all that close, but we loved and respected each other in our own ways. She made the best pies! I guess I was a little daunted to use her pie plate, but I like to think that she's happy to see me use it. I think your grandmother would be pleased that you are remembering her as you embrace your kitchen skills once again. Love always prevails. (((hugs)))
What a beautiful post, such a tribute to your grandmother! There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss my parents and my grandparents.
Hugs,
Nancy Scott
you brought me to tears, dearie. keep measuring and remembering.
I used my mom's old worn out pyrex pie plate when I made her sour cream raisin pie recipe for Thanksgiving.
Of course she's been gone since 15 years -- and yet I admit that I glance at the telephone with longing to hear....
when you open your heart..and write about memories and people you love, the whole world stand still and I get soaked into the beauty that is you...
just thinking...maybe we should all start video taping US...what we do and how we do it..so that we have a voice that our grandchildren can just push play..to hear us laugh and talk..don't you think? xx
Such a beautiful, emotional post. My throat is thick and tears are hovering as I finished reading your words. You described the feelings so well. I know exactly what it is to need to talk, so badly, to the one person who is no longer there. No one else will do. I hope that your time in the kitchen is healing. I always feel closer to my Mom when I'm doing those things that remind me the most of her.
Blessings!
I'm almost at a loss to say something here...your words convey such a deep sense of love...tenderness...and that ache of loss...I still find it hard to think of my grandparents, but there are so many wonderful memories too...
Thank you for sharing this...
xx
I really enjoyed this post.During the holidays I miss my mom and dad so bad and my granny.
...and so here I sit sobbing.. I am so touched by your words... such memories.
I'm 19, my alarm went off but I'm not getting up to get ready for work because I know dad will come in to wake me. I hear him moving around in the kitchen. I lie quietly in bed and wait until I hear his knock on my bedroom door. He says the same thing the same way every morning and I love it every morning. "Faaaye.. its time to get uuuup"
He was a good man and I didn't always know that.
This is a wonderfull & sad post.
My Mom is gone to.
I like to pretend she is just out there somewhere.
I still talk to her in my mind.
Touching post. Sound, touch, glances, smells: we want them recreated in a way we cannot, but we settle for recreating them in our head and heart the best we can. You shared it for us beautifully.