I sit here, a puddle of tears, as I type this post. For me, writing this is a way to grieve. I'm sitting at my new-to-me desk. It was the one my grandmother always used. Around me I have some blankets and pillows that I brought home from her house, and they still smell like her. See today I got the remaining items, that belong to me, from her house. There are only a few remaining boxes of photos and such for the children.
The house looks so empty... not the place I remember.
Oh the memories....Like the nights I would spend the night and not be able to sleep because my grandparents were snoring so loud. Or later years, going to my grandmother to talk because she seemed to understand me. She could help me answer the questions from my past. And then, taking my sweet babies to go visit. Just sitting and talking. The kids (us big ones included) always wanting Ma-ma's cookies and lemonade. Or watching my children bake cookies with her for the last time, just two short months before her death.
Some days my heart hurts so much I think it will break in two. There are so many times I want to just stop by and sit on the swing to chat while the kids play. But those times are gone. Not just because she is gone, but because soon the house will be sold and I will no longer be able to wander thru and remember the good times. And soon the pillows and blankets won't smell like her. For this I grieve.