leg warmers
Sometimes you find yourself heading in one direction, and then all of a sudden, everything changes and you’re heading in a totally new way.
That’s happened to me more than once in my life.
Today, it happened in the most wonderful way.
I was going to start this blog by saying that there’s never a right or a wrong to any story. There are only different perspectives. And I had a lot to say about that. About how a person always thinks of themselves as the hero of the story — but sometimes, someone else doesn’t see it the same way.
And then, as I sat waiting for the login for this page to load, while the man and Lucy wandered around the yard in the cold, drizzly darkness, someone pounded on our front door. And I got up, thinking I’d accidentally locked John out. But instead, there sat two packages propped next to our door.
Let me pause here, and rewind a little bit.
Last year, for the first time, we celebrated Christmas at home — just the two of us. Some of it was wonderful — waking up and exchanging gifts, gluttonously eating out at restaurants we love — some of it we need to re-think (movies on Christmas Day sounds good … but isn’t). Anyway, who knows when that will happen again — but we decided we liked doing our own exchange just us two. So this year we exchanged our pressies before heading to Mansfield for Christmas with the Family #1. Unfortunately, one of my presents hadn’t arrived at the time. But we didn’t worry about that.
It arrived tonight.
As I unwrapped the cardboard, my brain spun with speculation. I had no idea what this final present was. None. Based on the shape, I randomly mentioned to John that there were some things I’d like to frame in the future. He rolled his eyes. He’d heard it before.
And then, the last fold fell away, and my breath caught in my throat, and like I said, everything changed.
I’ve owned and carried around with me (rolled tightly in a rubber-banded spiral) a photograph poster from the Metropolitan Museum of Art for …. oh, let’s just say many years. It’s one of my most favorite images, a picture in my head that symbolized realized dreams.
I found out tonight, as I held a framed copy in shaking hands, my vision blurred with tears, that it’s called “Leg Warmers.” I’d never known that.
And in that moment, all the angst and unhappiness and introspection that had filled me to the brim for the past 48 hours dissipated. And life -suddenly- again felt full of hope and possibility.
I won’t always receive my most favorite image on my doorstep on bad days. I know there will be challenging times when I have to find that feeling, that motivation, all on my own. But today, I am grateful beyond explanation that my husband listens to me and actually hears me. He makes my dreams come true.
this & that
On December 1st, I took all social media off my phone. I’d been thinking about doing it for a while, but it felt so … permanent? … that I kept putting it off. I mean, how was I going to waste an inordinate amount of time on a daily basis without social media?
It seemed unfathomable to be unable to scroll through my Facebook feed on an hourly basis.
And the first few days were weird. Not going to lie about that. For no apparent reason I would grab my phone at work, just to realize that Facebook and Instagram were no longer there.
And even in the few days that I’ve been social media free (on my phone — let’s not get too crazy too fast!) I’ve been amazed at how productive and efficient I am. And how many things I’ve done instead of wasting time scrolling through various feeds. I’ve read books (really good ones, that make me glad I’m reading instead of scrolling), and instead of just thinking about blogging, I’ve actually blogged.
Mostly about nothing — but that’s sort of beside the point.
I had a friend in college who introduced me to a book about reconnecting with your inner artist (for the life of me, I cannot remember the title but when I find it, I will come back and edit this post!). The one thing I remember vividly (among ‘self dates to the arts’ and other suggestions I actually loved) was the idea of writing three full pages in a journal every night without stopping. It wasn’t even about what you wrote but the act of writing every night — just getting your thoughts on a piece of paper.
Stephen King says something sort of similar in his book On Writing. Which is an incredible book, by the way. He basically says — if you want to write, you need to write every day. No excuses.. Every day.
That’s sort of my M.O. with this blog right now. Just getting my thoughts on paper on a regular basis — my thoughts and ideas and contemplations. They aren’t incredibly original or particularly creative. But I love to write — it feels like a creative release. And someday (ah dreams) I would love to write something significant enough to be published. But writing is a skill — like pitching or catching or batting. You can have talent, but if you don’t practice and hone your skills, you do yourself a disservice.
Right now my beautiful puppy has rested her head on my right arm — which would be completely adorable, were I not typing. White Christmas is on the TV. I am snuggled in bed in my new favorite sweatshirt, my eyelids drooping with sleep.
And I’m also rambling on my blog.
But, more to the point, I AM rambling on my blog. Which is better than spending 45 minutes scrolling and ‘liking.’ So I can’t complain.
xo
tis the season
This morning, as the man and I carefully unwrapped ornaments and hung them thoughtfully on our Charlie Brown tree, I reminisced about how our lives have grown in the time we’ve been together.
Our first year, everything was a merge of ‘my’ stuff and ‘his’ stuff. And slowly, year by year, things have become ours, ornaments with history and meaning — commemorating special times we’ve shared. A golden leaf from Jackson Hole, a horse-drawn carriage from Williamsburg, a snow globe in a stocking from Hilton Head. I love that warm fuzzy feeling when the paper peels back to reveal what had been previously tucked safely away. The first ornament we hung this year was a beautiful boxer with a red and white scarf, given to us by our great friends (it looks surprisingly like Lucy!). John asked her where she wanted to hang it and she replied with a quizzical look and a suspicious sniff of the ornament. It was adorable. She’s still not one hundred percent sure she understands why there’s a live tree in the living room. But she seems okay with it.
It’s always sort of interesting to contemplate the holidays as you gear up for them — how celebrations change and how they stay they same, how you personally feel about the time of year. This December feels uncharacteristically mellow — I ordered our Christmas cards the first week of November and they are all sitting neatly stacked in ‘domestic’ and ‘air mail’ piles by the front door. We have essentially completed all of our shopping, our tree is up, and we aren’t having a party this year ….. So that’s that, right? It feels a little bizarre — anti climactic and strangely un-Christmas-y.
I have led a somewhat charmed life to this point — in that there was not a lot of drama during Thanksgiving or Christmas growing up. When my brother and I were young, we spent Christmas Eve with our Italian relatives (Italian-American — my dad’s side) and there was always a table heaping with food (the seven fish my friends) and I barely ate any of it — and we all ran around and had wild conspiracies about Santa Claus and it was glorious. And Christmas day was spent at home, opening presents and then eating a huge British Christmas lunch (my favorite) and then lounging around in sweatpants watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ while messing around with all our new swag.
But as you grow up, and become part of another person’s family and holiday celebrations, you begin to realize that things morph — I think it has a lot to do with children, actually — and even if things had stayed the same, they would inevitably also be very different.
On our very first date, John and I wandered down the main street of Manayunk, grabbing drinks at bars that we would otherwise never have gone into (in an effort to avoid running into anyone we knew …. it’s a long story). We ended up sitting outside at a tiny bar at one end of the strip, telling each other how much we loved Christmas, why and millions of stories of minutiae that we remembered with glowing detail. It was June then, and I remember hoping my beer would never end, and that I could sit and talk with this wonderful man forever.
Luckily, that wish came true. And the first year we lived together, every inch of our apartment was decorated for Christmas — ornaments and garland and twinkly lights festooned every corner of every room.
So this year, with our understated decorations, and no party on the agenda for the first time in four years, it feels quiet, and subtle … and somewhat out of character.
I’m glad this year is going to be low-key, and I’m glad that as of the seventh of December, we’re pretty prepared for the holidays. I just hope this isn’t the beginning of the end of the magic. Because to me, this as always the most magical and beautiful time of year. And to imagine that feeling fading — well, that just about breaks my heart.
introspection
Sometimes, I look at photos of myself on social media, and I’m a little amazed. That might sound obnoxious — just gimme a minute.
I look normal.
I mean, my life, the photos, what I’m doing — it all looks normal.
And in a lot of ways, it is. But …. In some ways, it’s not.
It’s such a weird balance — and I’m not very good at it. When am I just me –when do I have MS? When should that be the most important thing … when should it be NOT important at all?
I mean, in general, I tend to believe it shouldn’t be important at all. And then I have a day like today, when my hands puff up like … well, like puff pastry. And I wonder if I didn’t have MS, would my hands be swollen? Would they feel different? Am I making it all up in my head because I’m a hypochondriac?
It’s stressful.
I already overthought things — you know, before the MS. And I already worried deeply — clearly, also pre- multiple sclerosis. So then when you throw something in the mix as … serious? intense? incurable? … as MS, clearly, things aren’t going to get better. Maintain the status quo? Win. But that possibility? Very slim.
I was looking at a photo from a PSU game a few weeks ago — I’m smiling and posing — looking like every year I’ve ever tailgated in my life. But looking at the photo, I knew that my legs were bad that day — I had Lydia with me every step of the way. I remembered being frustrated in the stands, my vision so dark I could barely make out details.
And while of course the things I deal with are frustrating to me — how could they not be? — it also makes me consider the sadness of so many people, dealing with things that far outweigh the challenges I hurdle on a daily basis.
Life presents us with challenges. We’d all love to believe that we care deeply about the trials and tribulations of others — we’re so evolved and aware. And on some level, we are. But on another level, it’s very easy to say things, to make gestures and promise fairy tales. And then head home to our warm beds and our worry free life. “I’m so sad for such and such a situation” but at the same time, pour a glass of scotch and watch TV shows recorded on our DVR.
It’s a challenging thing to authentically reconcile.
I guess I’m not really getting at much. Except that maybe photos — like appearances — can be deceiving. Behind every smile — underneath every smirk and wink — there’s the underbelly of life, the truth of every day existence. We can all pretend to be whatever we want to be on Facebook or Instagram. And maybe that’s a good thing — who knows. But everyone’s existence is colored by their own and others’ opinions. Such is life. Nothing — seriously, nothing — is as pretty and pure as a photo.
But sometimes it’s nice to pretend it is.
Winter is coming
It’s crazy to think it’s December. This year has flown by.
There have been so many moments when my fingers were just tapping with things to say — and instead of writing I wasted time on something less worthwhile. It’s funny to think about that — about how you change as a person and all of a sudden stop prioritizing parts of who you are due to shear laziness.
Blogs are such interesting things. So many are full of interesting things — but they are all a snapshot into a personal life — a human just living (whether that living is big or small). These posts of mine vary in intensity, but every one is personal — a girl/woman living near Philadelphia who cooks sometimes, works in the restaurant biz and has MS. Those things define me — both by choice and circumstance. I read old blog posts and I am re-introduced to a person I no longer know.
I am full to the brim of things to say — opinions and lessons learned plus all the other stuff that makes up life. I don’t claim that anyone else is interested. But blogging is like yelling into a mountain range — it seems so quiet at first (as though the noise you’d just made hadn’t happened at all) … And then your voice comes back to you — a little different than before but still recognizable.
thanksgiving
Over a month ago, I spent some time at a great retreat in Austin Texas. Along with teaching me that (basically) I don’t eat the way I should at all, the retreat also focused on mental and spiritual health. And I found those sessions and that information so incredibly enriching.
To save this blog from being REALLY long, let me just say that OHI really focused on the power of gratitude. And having just completed a seven day gratitude ‘challenge’ on Facebook prior to arriving, I was completely on that bandwagon. Thinking about the things we are grateful for on a daily basis — and articulating those things –is incredibly uplifting and powerful.
So in honor of the things I enumerated on Facebook back in September — here’s a re-posting. Wishing everyone a beautiful Thanksgiving surrounded by those you love.
Sept 20, 2014
Nominated by my wonderful friend Angie — — thank you for thinking of me! Three things I am grateful for today (and then the following six!)
1 — Most obviously I am grateful for my husband. He got more than he bargained for when he married me but his is my strength, my laughter and my best friend.
2 — I am grateful for my Lucy. To have an animal look at you with the love that fills her big brown eyes — takes your breath away. It is truly a gift….
3- I am grateful for my family. The last two years of MS and cancer (not both me!) have shown the true strength and integrity of my parents, my wonderful second mother (my mum’s twin) and my insanely amazing brother.
When you’ve had the journey I’ve had recently — you definitely see with crystal clarity the things for which you are grateful. Thanks for the nom Ange!
September 21, 2014
1 — I am grateful for ceiling fans. They just make everything better — especially sleep!
2 — I am grateful for football. I just love it, and I’m not going to use this as a place for anything other than positive stuff right now. (Editorial note: Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson were dominating NFL news at the time). I have been so lucky to have so many great memories throughout my life that have to do with football — PSU, Steelers, PR Rams & Fedko, Womissing Saturday day games & away games on Friday nights — the Flemington Falcons — football has always been a big part of my life. And Sunday is the best day for a shout out.
3– I am grateful for Starbucks. And on that subject, I am grateful for Ted — for introducing me to the soy chai latte in college — it has been my drink for over 10 years & I love it. I am grateful to all my baristas who know me, my hubs, my drinks and my football teams. They always brighten my day. I love Starbucks.
September 22, 2014
Day Tre —
I am grateful for —
1 — All the failed relationships and friendships I have had to this point in my life. Those failures taught me about myself, my strengths and weaknesses and the kinds of people I know to be true friends and in the case of my husband, my partner.
2 — On that subject, here’s to ALL the mistakes I have learned from throughout the years — as my dad once said, if there was hard way in which to learn something, I found it. Maybe I just liked knowing how everything worked from the inside out — needless to say, those mistakes have helped me figure myself out, and I’m grateful for that.
3 — I am grateful for Aman and Les, the guys who work the floor I park on in my garage. They make every day better with their smiles, the knowledge that my car is safe and protected and the friendly way in which they handle even the most stressful of parking garage situations. Five years in, and i couldn’t imagine parking anywhere else. No matter how bad my day might have been — they are there, smiling, asking about Lucy & John and just generally being good humans.
September 23, 2014
Fourth Day of Gratefulness — the Work Edition
1 — I am grateful for my boss. He took a chance on me and believed in me and supported me & what I was doing when other people might have been telling him that it was crazy to give me the responsibility he gave me. And when my whole world changed he gave me flexibility to pursue my health, the time to do it, and many other resources on which a price can never be put.
2 — I am grateful for my co-workers, and especially my two ‘partners.’ It is a great feeling to get to work in an industry you love, with people who are fun to be around — honest, decent people who care as much as you do about the success of what is being done. People you survived the trenches with — who have your back and you have theirs.
3 — I am grateful for my Aunt & Uncle — it was through them I learned about the art of hospitality, the love of food and the great industry that I have found a home in. Sitting beside an indoor pool at one of my uncle’s hotels in the UK at the tender age of 8 or 9, he told me with a laugh that I had rich taste (as I sat noshing on delectably buttery smoked salmon & caviar) and should marry a rich man. Well, Uncle T, I did you one better. I’m doin’ it myself — and I learned my fundamentals from you.
September 24, 2014
Cinco!
I am grateful —
1 — for the small moments in life — being half awake in the grayness of the morning and hearing my puppy’s snuffles and cuddling up with my hubs … the cool autumn breeze blowing leaves in the late afternoon sunlight … the woman in the elevator who likes my dress … the crackling of a good fire pit … things that create the depth of life.
2 — for my time in Wyomissing. We moved so much throughout my youth, that I went to two elementary schools, two middle schools and two high schools. But just being at Wyo for 2 years has impacted my life in such a positive way, even sixteen years later. I’m grateful so much for that. Makes me feel like I did actually come from somewhere.
3 — for contact lenses. I can’t imagine what it must have feel like for people with vision like mine prior to glasses, but contacts were a huge improvement for me. Maybe lasik one day ….
September 25, 2014
Grateful Day #6
1 — I am grateful for diversity. Yeah, sometimes people who are vastly different from ourselves can prove to be infuriating. But minus the idiots from Philly (editorial note: this was written at the time when some real geniuses thought it would be fun to beat up a gay couple … basically in center city) and others who commit just unspeakable crimes — doesn’t being different add to the spice of life? Doesn’t it sometimes help us see things from an entirely new viewpoint? I like to think so.
2 — I am grateful for my faith. It’s mine, and it’s personal and when things feel dark and when things feel light, I always feel as though there is a reassuring hand on my shoulder keeping me steady.
3 — I am sincerely grateful for sleep. I know it’s a necessity of life — but I relish it. I love slipping into cool clean sheets and snuggling under soft blankets, close to the ones I love. It’s a haven of peacefulness that comes every night, and I am supremely grateful for that.
September 26, 2014
I want to preface this by saying thank you to Angie again, because sometimes, the things we are grateful for become the things we take for granted. And this exercise has reminded me that even in the tough times, life is a phenomenal adventure filled to the brim with wonder.
On this final day of FB status updates, I am grateful for …
1 — Yoga. It has helped me climb from a place of physical desperation to a place of acceptance. Maybe I’ll never teach yoga, or be anything close to physically proficient. But it has reminded me, through this new part of my journey, that even though some things have been taken away — and I often mourn those things more than I should — some things have not.
2 — Humility and self-awareness. I am a perfectly imperfect human being. I’ve made a load of mistakes, I’ve inadvertently (and not-so-inadvertently) hurt people. But I’d also like to believe I’ve lifted some people up, passed along the gifts that have been given to me throughout my life. I’ve learned that being humble is a vastly preferable alternative to being bombastically egocentric. Both personally, and in those I spend my time with.
3 — Passion. I spent the early years of my life pursing a passion, and I may not have found a career in it, but nothing will ever lift up my soul quite the way belting out a good song does. Transcendent, if I’m being passionate about it.
OHI moments
So, it’s been a few weeks since I finished my week-long stay at OHI Austin.
And despite my original desire to revert completely back to all my old habits and beliefs — that stuff gets into your head!
Okay, so I wasn’t completely set on forgetting all that I’d learned. But throughout the week I was there, it was such a roller coaster of emotion and informational input — that by the end my brain was fried and I found deep comfort in the idea that life could and would go on just as I’d been living it before checking in to room 207.
Let’s rewind for a minute.
A few months ago, my boss spent a week at a place called Optimum Health Institute (OHI) in San Diego, California. He came back refreshed and inspired — albeit with clear opinions about certain aspects of the program — and he felt very strongly that I should look into spending some time there myself. I googled it. I was intrigued but in a distant sort of way — oh, it looks good for those who have money to burn, bur for someone like myself, where every penny counts? More like a faraway dream.
And then circumstances unfolded — the man and I booked a trip to Austin Texas to visit my brother in his newly purchased home in his newly inhabited city — and all of a sudden, I was booked for a week at OHI’s Austin campus. And before I knew it, Sunday Oct 19th rolled around and it was 4pm, and my husband and brother were waving goodbye, and I was there. Alone.
OHI was so much more than I anticipated. Yes, I’d googled it, and yes, I’d skimmed through some menus, and read some bold print — but I didn’t really know what I was getting into. Over the course of five and half full days, I learned an absurd amount about my digestive system, organs in my body, the nutritional value of food and the power of the mind. And I made some incredible friends.
The campus was beautiful and the room (where I spent a lot of time … juicing and raw vegan food wears a person out!) was very comfy. On Sunday night we had a small orientation, but it was an early night, and I (being the anti-social monkey that I can be) retreated to my room and spent a chunk of time in tears, wondering what I’d signed myself up for, before falling into an uneasy sleep.
On Monday morning we were walked through the program. I recognized in the other first timers some of the same trepidation and unease that I felt within myself. Do what? Seriously? These people have to be out of their minds.
I had a tough time with some of it — buying into their philosophies, their love of wheatgrass (and its ultra superhuman healing powers …), their thoughts on food, colonics/enemas, etc. It was so much information, and a total change of thought process — so much new stuff all at once, and so intense. I went through waves of acceptance and then vehement denial. I knew that I had someone at the touch of a phone to be support — but sometimes I wasn’t looking for support of the program. Sometimes I was looking for support of the exact opposite — that living my life, eating decadent restaurant food and drinking sumptuous heady wines was okay. It wouldn’t kill me. And after a couple of days at OHI, I was pretty sure that their whole message was that if I followed their plan, and gave up some much of what I loved, I would somehow be healed of my worst MS symptoms. And I had a problem with that, too.
But here I am, several weeks later, and so much of what I learned is still lingering in the forefront of my mind. Could I eat terrible food? Sure. But unfortunately, now I am armed with so much knowledge, it makes it hard to do that to myself.
Ignorance really is bliss.
I’m not ready to jump on a raw vegan bandwagon — too many things come to mind that I just could.not give up — at least, not all at once, cold turkey.
But I also felt that way two years ago, when my boss’s wife gave me all sorts of guidance about food, and I realized that as healthy as I thought I was being, I really had.no.idea. And since then, green smoothies and green juice, and eating a vegetable-based diet have become (mostly) our norm.
So despite all my skepticism, here I am, finally buying into the fact that some of that OHI mumbo jumbo was actually excellent information and I should apply it. Just not all at once. That’s just — well, insane.
change in the weather
Y’know that scene in Mary Poppins — when the wind changes? And then all of a sudden, life changes? I feel that way about the first true cold snap in the fall.
Now, to be fair, I missed the first one — I was lounging by a pool in Austin Texas, trying to summon the strength to — well, do anything — following a three-day juice fast. Er, cleanse. Detox? (Sorry, terminology. Gets me every time.) But this evening, the cool seemed to descend as the sun sank in the sky, and I shivered –legitimately — when Lucy and I ambled around the yard. And it knew it was real. Mmmm…. I love it.
I’ve been attempting to sit and write all week — but my journey home on Sunday kicked my butt (who knew Philadelphia was so popular a destination from Austin TX, that one cancelled flight could throw and entire day into chaos? … Oh, right, there is only one flight from Austin to Philadelphia … that would explain it!) And then returning to work didn’t help with the fatigue. And taking care of Lucy solo — while always a joy, because she is a joy — can also be somewhat exhausting. So here I am, Thursday night, just sitting down to clickety clack on the keyboard. And all that’s coming out are rambles. Haha!
I spent last week in a truly incredible place — also completely surreal and outside of my previous scope of reality — and it has had such an impact, that it has begun to influence nearly every decision I make. Especially in terms of food. Which is tough.
I have a journal that I kept — notes from classes and thoughts jotted down in incomplete sentences. But my brain is so loosey goosey right now, I think I would do a huge disservice to the program I attended if I tried in any way to write about it right now.
Instead, I think I’m going to curl up under some soft blankies with my puppy, listen to her soft snuffles, and fall asleep about ten minutes into whichever movie I choose to pop into the BluRay. And then tomorrow, there will be no more sleeps left until the man gets home, and life will be right again.
killing time
I am currently hanging out at a wine bar in the Austin airport, fresh on the heels of spending a full week detoxing my body. Admittedly, I feel kinda guilty. As though the five plus days I spent were for naught.
But then, through the fog of frustration and fatigue, I remember who I am. And I remember that I need to always feel okay with who I am. (Y’know, within reason). And I’m the type of girl who finds a wine bar when her flight is cancelled and she must re-route to a different airport just to get to the east coast — even if it’s seven hours after her original arrival time.
As I’ve sat here and fought with the WiFi and the underlying urge to break intermittently into tears, I had a lot of time to think. (Which is saying something, because this entire week has been devoted — through the program — to time to think.)
There’s something very different when you are single and alone versus when you are in a relationship and find yourself alone. It’s almost humbling. I’ve sat here, enjoying some very nice wine, some very nice nibbles, and I’ve palpably felt the loneliness. And this is a girl who used to go to the movies alone no problem, exist on my own no problem — and then suddenly, something changed.
And it wasn’t meeting my husband. Who is amazing. And takes amazing care of me. He makes the stressful things less stressful, because he handles them. He makes sure I can get through the security line smoothly, and makes sure we’re at the right gate, and in the right place and doing the right thing … He’s just — he protects me. He takes care of me. He takes the brunt of the burden and shoulders it — so I can sleep while he drives, or focus on other (usually work-related) things without having to worry. He always makes sure we’re okay.
I think at some point — between my single days and my bad relationship days — something happened to cause such unreal insecurity within me that it manifests in my complete inability to be alone. And getting MS didn’t help. Because MS just makes you more vulnerable. Less confident in your movements, your action, your ability to… oh, I don’t know … walk an airport terminal between connecting flights. I don’t think my poor husband has ever seen a completely convincing ‘alone and confident’ version of me. And I know it existed once …. I just can’t remember it.
So I figured out the WiFi. And I’ve had some interesting airport conversations (sit at a wine bar for 3 and half hours in an airport — you will, too!). But I haven’t figured out the loneliness. The missing my husband. The insecurity. The unwelcome and completely uncontrollable welling of eyes and tightening of throat.
And I think of the lovely woman I met this past week. Who struggles with the loneliness of no longer having her husband. The quiet of her home. The emptiness of family dinners — that gaping, open hole where someone used to be. And I have no answers. No fixes for the loneliness. And it breaks my heart.
how we say goodbye
On Sunday, when I opened my phone and saw that my mum was calling, I knew what she was going to say before I even answered.
The sun was slanting through the windows of our favorite sushi take-out, and we were the only ones there, chatting with the owners as they rolled our order. It was a moment that had occurred a hundred times before. But on Sunday afternoon, it was different. Because at that moment, I knew that my Granny was no longer with us.
Life is funny; families are funny. There are layers upon layers of emotion, memories, misunderstandings, triumphs, trials, tribulations. In the moment you say goodbye, it’s all distilled down into one clarifying thought. The journey as you’d known it is over.
I grew up in America, the daughter of a man from Pittsburgh Pennsylvania and a woman from Edinburgh Scotland. My father is an only child; my mother is dead center of five siblings – 4 girls, 1 boy. Moving around every few years, my brother and I never really had a strong connection with either side of the family — distance being the major factor. We were lucky enough to spend a lot of time in the English countryside as youngsters — but we were never English and an inability to fully understand our family always existed. My brother — always the diplomat — will most likely remember things differently than I do.
I have wonderful memories — picking baskets upon baskets of raspberries right across the border in Scotland, and gorging myself at the dining room table after dinner. (Nothing is quite as decadent as clotted cream and fresh raspberries.) Sitting in my grandparents living room listening to a crackling radio, doing crossword puzzles and hoping that Granny would bring the tin out with Kit Kat bars as an evening treat. Driving up to Inverness one summer, stopping along the highway at a Loch and enjoying a fully home-cooked picnic of sarnies, Scotch eggs, pork pies …. raspberry fluff. As I got older, and went to visit my Gran over spring break during college (when most people my age were partying on the beaches in Mexico) I remember sitting on a step in the kitchen as she made tea, or cooked dinner and she told me story after story of when my mum was a little girl, or stories of during the war when she met my Grandpa — who gave up his seat on a train to her. Some of her best stories were when they all lived in Malaysia for a few years — the journey by steamliner from England all the way around to the other side of the world, skinning snakes to make shoes and purses, armoured cars gliding along rain drenched roads in the dark of night.
My Granny didn’t live an easy life. I know there were struggles that I will never truly understand. She was a tough woman, a strong woman, a stubborn woman. She was above all else — a survivor.
I didn’t know her very well — sporadic visits across my thirty-four years of life never allowed for a closeness that exists between some grandparents and grandchildren. I know she loved me — even if she didn’t always understand me. She loved all her children and grandchildren fiercely — the only way she knew how. She lived ninety-two years; ninety-two years of memories, laughter, tears, struggle. My heart broke on Sunday, not because it was too soon, but because for the eleven direct descendents left behind, a hole was created that will never again be filled. And while that is an easy idea to understand on a purely intellectual level, when has life ever been purely intellectual?
My mother’s voice broke on the phone, cracked open momentarily with the raw emotion of losing a person who had been so far away for so long — but always there, a steady heartbeat creating the rhythm of life. We all stare down the truth of death — but no one is ever prepared to walk through the door of acceptance until we have no other choice. And we are left, full of stories, full of justification … full of words to ease the unwanted pain.
D5 Creation