Understatement can speak volumes
When my Grandma got sick, and I used to call her to talk to her, we had a sort of ritual. She had leukemia, and thankfully had almost no pain, except for the yucky tests they had to put her through.
But she would get really tired if her white blood corpuscle count was particularly low, and often she would need blood transfusions to help her. My grandmother was possibly one of the most energetic people on earth, and hearing her sounding weak and tired made me feel as though the sun had petulantly decided not to rise.
We would talk about all sorts of things. Mostly the kids. At a time in my life when Grandma and I were in danger of running out of common ground, I started having kids. And from then on there was no shortage of things to talk about. It’s nice to have someone who could hear you tell stories about your kids ad infinitum, without getting sick of it. My parents and grandparents can always be counted on for this.
But we would talk. I told her about my knitting, and quilting, since she was an avid sewer and knitter. And she of course expressed alarm about my plans to move to India.
And then, always, when we talked about her sickness, I would always say, “I really don’t like this Grandma. I just don’t like it.”
And she would say, “I know you don’t, dear. I know.”
11 comments
I am so, so sorry for your loss. And all the other losses you have had to face this season. I know you will find the strength and love and wisdom to grow from them, but still. It’s hard.
I’ll continue to keep you in my thoughts.
Grandmothers are really good at calling you dear.
I’m crying. I love grandmas.
Rae Rae- When you write of your Grandmother, your writing voice becomes like a child’s, even when you use the word “petulantly.” (A very grownup word for describing something childish.) I’m guessing it was not only the content of the tales of your children that kept your Grandmother so enraptured, but the teller of the tales too. Like the way you can’t let yourself cut Kae off when he launches into telling you a long something at the wrong moment because you find him so stinking dear. Have a good hearty grieving with lots of thankfulness woven in. I trust that you will be well attended to.
Rae, I’m catching up after a week or so away…sending long-distance hugs to you and all of yours around you. So sorry for all of this loss, too much to hold in two soft hands.
and extra hugs, too…
Oh, I am so sorry. I just caught up on your posts — you felt the same way about your grandmother that I felt about mine – she passed away unexpectedly last October. She grounded me, too.
Thinking of you. Sending you comfort and peace.
i just arrived in the wack to visit my grandma and parents, having lapsed on your ever flowing blog and life’s writings, i am feeling a deeper sense of gratitude and appreciation of this thyme, i will probably be knitting with my granny tomorrow, it and the children are the threads we hold as our life is quite complex in comparisson to my elders, what a blessed gift of an experience to be loved and charished by our mothers and their mothers,
There is no question that she lives on in you and your children, and her children and her husband, it is darling to see that you are so in tune with her spirit,
a big hug to you from me, i know it is not an easy experience to live through so much passing at once whilst you are opening a new chapter to your life, the pain is the best part to let go of, the end of suffering feels like a bittersweet reward, the memories and life will live on forever and ever,
lots of love and peace blowing your way from here,
i hope you get to lay down in a field of flowers and breathe the love that surrounds you
namaste dear sister
Oh, Rae. I am sorry. I just got back into town from a short vacation and read the news about your dear grandma.
Your grandma sounds like a treasure. You will miss her. I am sorry, again.
that was a beautiful snippet.
sob
That little snippet feels a bit like wrapping a warm blanket around my shoulders on a cold night. It’s warm and comforting, and even restful, even in it’s bittersweetness.
Rae, I’m sorry for your loss. My grandmothers were my two most favorite people, and I learned so much about love from them. I miss them both terribly even now, 30 years after they’ve died. So I can empathize with how you must feel, and I’m sorry.
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