Tuesday, October 9, 2012

To grieve...

Another partial post about my late grandfather that I found in my "draft" folder of my blog. Just posting for my own personal sake for years down the road. I think I published something like this but I'm not sure. I wrote this in September of 2011.

Starting the grieving process all over again or graciously backing out? That was the difficult question I was faced with recently. You see, Tapestry (the hospice group we used to care for my grandfather from December of 2010 to his death in April of 2011) is hosting on October 23 a memorial for all the patients who have died this year. When my grandmother mentioned this memorial to me at first glance I was excited to be a part. However, as I considered more and more what I was really facing my grieve all over again I was not sure if I would be able to handle it.

For months, my grandfather’s death consumed me. All of me. I was pregnant and yet couldn’t for weeks decorate my child’s nursery because every time I walked in that space I was immediately brought to tears by the fact that my precious little girl will never know his smell, the way his belly felt during a nap, or the way he would have called her “Sweetie Pie”.

After his death, I would wake crying in the middle of the night. Strangest thing ever. I also thought the next physical steps in my grieving process would be going to the grave site to see the permanent marker and taking Harper there (Brian’s wish is that we go on a rainy day. This will only make sense if you’ve read my blog before or know what my Papa wanted to do once he got to Heaven.)

As I thought about the how far I had come in my grief, finally reaching a point of being through the anger I realized I could not attend this memorial. I had said my “goodbye”. Do not misunderstand me- my pain, my grief, my anguish is still very much a part of my daily life. There are times that simply getting through the day are difficult. I have never known loss like.

Not going and saying aloud to my dad and my grandmother that I would not go was a difficult yet a very comforting place to be in my adult life. My dad and I cried over how much we still miss him. My grandmother said to me that she understood. I hate not going because I FOUGHT hard for hospice and we selected the perfect group to care for him. I would love to be able to say “goodbye” but perhaps I will just write a letter and tell them how grateful I was to their service. Then and now.

In the movie Courageous there is a line that goes something like “are you going to be angry for what you don’t have or grateful for what you did have?” Well, I spent a lot of my summer being mad as hell for God taking him and I know that God nor my Papa want me walking around angry. He lived a full life. He was so sick in the end. Going home is where he found healing. So I’m going to elect by being grateful for what I had. I had so much more than most people have with their grandfathers.