amid all the bustle of rowan's birth back in 09, i never really got to address the death of my grandmother in journal format. something in me is needing to do it now.
my grandmother, evelyn joanne, for whom rowan was named, was the matriarch of our large and close family. she was the center of our collective universe. warm, spunky, open, and multi-talented in art, gardening, video games, and crafts... she was never disagreeable to anyone but her husband, and that mostly in jest. you couldn't fool her to save your life--she was too observant, too quick, and too full of common sense. she was also beautiful, even just before she died after being long-ill with COPD. my grandmother was the one person any of us--her 4 children, plus 3 by marriage, and 9 grandchildren--could talk to without any fear of judgment, anger, or anything but love and acceptance. she was the most amazing woman i have ever known.
her death was impossibly hard on all of us... there is really no way to describe the barren, lost, and sorrowful feeling that we have all come to live with. my mother still struggles daily. i know that her loss is greater than mine when i think about what it will someday be like to lose her; i don't know what i will do. a mother is a figure of unspeakable importance that i did not truly understand until my own lost hers.
she has been telling me lately, through tears, that i look just like my grandmother; maybe that is where this is coming from. i see what she means, but in truth i am only a pale shadow of her sparkling self. i am privileged to have inherited pieces of her jewelry, some of her clothes, and other random things from her life, and when i wear them (which i do), i am proud. it makes me feel closer to her... i sometimes think i can feel her nearby... i get the sense that she has peeked into my life and is nodding with loving approval. it is a rare comfort, but welcome.
it makes me so sad that she never knew about kai, or liam, or aria... she held rowan once, literally on her deathbed, and it was a moment unlike any i have ever witnessed. a frustrated, crying infant of 3 weeks going silent and peaceful at the touch of her great-gradmother's fragile, shaking hands. they looked in each other's eyes for a long time, gazing through four generations of first-born women. we all watched, amazed at rowan's obvious enthrallment with a putative stranger. there was a photo of this amazing moment on my dad's cell phone, until my mom accidentally put it through the wash... needless to say, she was more devastated than anyone over it.
i have regret, also, which my mother shares. in her last year or so, my grandmother had changed; whether it was a result of the medications she was on, or the illness itself, or the anxiety that accompanied it, she was not herself. she was constantly fearful, depressed, slightly confused, and often angry... she obsessed over things, and repeated conversations too many times, and was just not the same person that i had always known. because of this, she was frustrating to be around, and i let that get in the way of spending more time with her. i let myself be angry with her for changing. my mother did too (we talked about it while it was happening). now, i think back and just wish i would have ignored it, given her more love, and been there in any way i could have for her. it's not entirely true, but i have a very clear memory of throwing attitude and open frustration at her at my baby shower for rowan, and that has stuck with me so strongly and hurts so much. i was short with her and annoyed by her confusion and i hate myself for that. it wasn't the last time i saw her, but it might as well have been... the next times were while she was in hospice, deciding to die. i hate myself for being anything less than caring with her.
it is hard to lose anyone, but in this case our family has lost the greater part of its glue. we still gather every holiday and see each other at random intervals--we are all essentially neighbors--but there is always a palpable absence. a hole. my mother has taken on the administrative role of matriarch, and does a good enough job, but she can never and will never try to be a true substitute for her mother. my mom is guarded, somewhat judgmental, and not unconditionally warm; my grandmother was the opposite. i miss her so much. we all do.
of all the things i have wished for in my life, i wish the most that my grandmother could see my children and be part of their lives. i wish that every single day.
i hope she can hear me.
my grandmother, evelyn joanne, for whom rowan was named, was the matriarch of our large and close family. she was the center of our collective universe. warm, spunky, open, and multi-talented in art, gardening, video games, and crafts... she was never disagreeable to anyone but her husband, and that mostly in jest. you couldn't fool her to save your life--she was too observant, too quick, and too full of common sense. she was also beautiful, even just before she died after being long-ill with COPD. my grandmother was the one person any of us--her 4 children, plus 3 by marriage, and 9 grandchildren--could talk to without any fear of judgment, anger, or anything but love and acceptance. she was the most amazing woman i have ever known.
her death was impossibly hard on all of us... there is really no way to describe the barren, lost, and sorrowful feeling that we have all come to live with. my mother still struggles daily. i know that her loss is greater than mine when i think about what it will someday be like to lose her; i don't know what i will do. a mother is a figure of unspeakable importance that i did not truly understand until my own lost hers.
she has been telling me lately, through tears, that i look just like my grandmother; maybe that is where this is coming from. i see what she means, but in truth i am only a pale shadow of her sparkling self. i am privileged to have inherited pieces of her jewelry, some of her clothes, and other random things from her life, and when i wear them (which i do), i am proud. it makes me feel closer to her... i sometimes think i can feel her nearby... i get the sense that she has peeked into my life and is nodding with loving approval. it is a rare comfort, but welcome.
it makes me so sad that she never knew about kai, or liam, or aria... she held rowan once, literally on her deathbed, and it was a moment unlike any i have ever witnessed. a frustrated, crying infant of 3 weeks going silent and peaceful at the touch of her great-gradmother's fragile, shaking hands. they looked in each other's eyes for a long time, gazing through four generations of first-born women. we all watched, amazed at rowan's obvious enthrallment with a putative stranger. there was a photo of this amazing moment on my dad's cell phone, until my mom accidentally put it through the wash... needless to say, she was more devastated than anyone over it.
i have regret, also, which my mother shares. in her last year or so, my grandmother had changed; whether it was a result of the medications she was on, or the illness itself, or the anxiety that accompanied it, she was not herself. she was constantly fearful, depressed, slightly confused, and often angry... she obsessed over things, and repeated conversations too many times, and was just not the same person that i had always known. because of this, she was frustrating to be around, and i let that get in the way of spending more time with her. i let myself be angry with her for changing. my mother did too (we talked about it while it was happening). now, i think back and just wish i would have ignored it, given her more love, and been there in any way i could have for her. it's not entirely true, but i have a very clear memory of throwing attitude and open frustration at her at my baby shower for rowan, and that has stuck with me so strongly and hurts so much. i was short with her and annoyed by her confusion and i hate myself for that. it wasn't the last time i saw her, but it might as well have been... the next times were while she was in hospice, deciding to die. i hate myself for being anything less than caring with her.
it is hard to lose anyone, but in this case our family has lost the greater part of its glue. we still gather every holiday and see each other at random intervals--we are all essentially neighbors--but there is always a palpable absence. a hole. my mother has taken on the administrative role of matriarch, and does a good enough job, but she can never and will never try to be a true substitute for her mother. my mom is guarded, somewhat judgmental, and not unconditionally warm; my grandmother was the opposite. i miss her so much. we all do.
of all the things i have wished for in my life, i wish the most that my grandmother could see my children and be part of their lives. i wish that every single day.
i hope she can hear me.
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