Lets start with the biggest thing on my mind.... What the hell did I do wrong to have three of my grandparents die in 6 weeks? What the Fuck. Karma being a philosophy or aspect of religion that has interested me for years, totally shitting on me, and more importantly, my family, totally sucks. I feel physically and mentally wounded. Not just for myself, that is a whole other aspect of grief that I'm dealing with. Right now, my biggest wound is for my mother. She has just lost both of her parents. Mother in January and Father just last week. I can't imagine her mind set right now. Honestly, I don't want to either. My loss is different, being granddaughter not daughter but still...
I'll start with my Grandma Cornicelli. She fell going to get the mail. How sucky is that? Come on. 90 years old in January, shrinking each time I saw her but a little dynamite. Going to get the mail. Fell. Neighbor saw her and called 911. I always figured she would out live me for some reason. It was just her personality. She would tell you that she was dying tomorrow 'cause of her weak heart but she still lived alone and had family over for dinner every Sunday. Old School Italian Family (from my brothers side) :) Love ya bro.
Grandma Cornicelli died in February. I'm still digesting the true impact of the loss for me and my brother. It has taken a back seat to some extent. Sure to come out later in some random act of violence or drug abuse.... just kidding folks... come on... really, we all deal in our own way... I'm thinking humor people... Ok, fill my wine glass and lets continue... :)
We all have to deal with the loss and move on. At some point the moving on part will include thinking about holidays, past and present, and not crying. Looking at photos you forgot you had and seeing things you didn't remember seeing the last time you looked at that picture. A song that has words you now understand and actually pay attention to now. The quick flashes of memory that pop up at the most unexpected times and make you cry when browsing the cat food isle at Wal-Mart (mom). It must have a purpose. They say we must brave and survive the pain of death to appreciate life. I understand that now but still... what the fuck...
I once found that loving someone made you see life in different colors. It was that first moment that I realized that Love is a freeing and life changing emotion. Death seems to have that same effect. I see things I didn't see before. I have more time to contemplate the subtle aspects of a moment than I never even bothered to think about before, or take the time for, before. Before I realized how much I loved my grandparents and now, I have to deal with the grief and the anger of that loss.
I'm a tough nut. I know that. The people who know me, and still love me, know that. Those that don't still love me because of that, don't concern me any longer. Life, and love, are both too short. The few that see past the hard shell and accept me for who I am are my true blessings in life.
My husband worries about me and the fact that I haven't really cried it out yet (he's one of those blessing things). I'm not sure I know how to. And to tell you the truth I'm going to blame it all on Harloquin romance novels. Yeah, I read too many books as a teenager. Most of them (but definitely not all) were romance novels that had tough chicks who hid their emotions and the men who, in the end, always saw through the tough exterior to the soft wounded woman beneath. Oh My God. That is totally it!
My Grandma (Sowers) (passed away in January) was a woman who I would want next to me in that dark alley. She would totally kick major bad guy ass and tell them how to make an awesome potato salad while she was at it. She was 6 foot plus (so no 3 inch heels for her) and more than just my Grandmother and a mother. She was a humanitarian, an animal lover and supporter, a devoted lover of mother earth, a dedicated wife and amazonian behemoth of love and support to all that knew and loved her. If she had a thought, you knew what it was. If she didn't like you, you knew and you knew why so you could fix it. A woman of openmindedness and joy. Life was a daily experience and you dealt with it or got off the pot. She also could teach you swear words in Swedish and liked to use the English version of them herself, while still remaining a lady.
While I will deeply miss my Grandma, I will also deeply miss Grandpa. We all knew he would go, if grandma went. Mistakenly we gave him 6 months. It was only 6 weeks. As the major manly figure in my life growing up, grandpa scared the crap out of me for many years. Not in a bad way. He was, and truly accepted the roll of disciplinarian in my life. And boy did I need one (right mom?). Gramps was the solid wall of warmth and love that I could always crawl up on and fall asleep on, knowing I was safe. He lectured me about respecting elders and my duties as a child while looking at me with love. When I was growing up, my mom and I lived with my grandparents for a while. I was not an easy child to keep entertained, especially for my grandparents. I wanted to take everything apart and figure out how it worked. My grandma would take advantage of this by giving me things that were broken, figuring that I wouldn't do more damage than was already done. It wasn't until I started fixing the broken things that Grandpa would trust me with his tools. Then he gave me a hammer and some nails.
He took me to the driveway and showed me the fence that ran along the neighbors yard. It had a lot of missing boards an pieces of boards. Then he showed me the pile of missing pieces and told me to put the fence back together. It took me days but I pieced each board back together and nailed them on with the hammer and nails. It was my first major construction project and I was only about 6 or 7. I still remember his face when he saw the fence completed. I saw how proud he was of me. He didn't say much, ever. It wasn't until 10 years ago that he told me he loved me for Christ sake. (yeah yeah, blasphemy, whatever... bring it on...) Gramps was the quiet, strong, grumpy, silent, conservative, cuddly, lovable man who could whistle like a bird and laugh like Santa on Christmas night. I'll miss him. I'm also going to have to forgive him for giving up on life when my mom needed him so much.
Grandma's death was hard enough but a cruel blessing in it's own way. She was sick and in pain for a while. I can accept the loss with the knowledge of peace for her, and us. Gramps was down hill all the way, one stumbling block after another, through Grandma's death and more. Mentally he gave up the ghost (whatever that means). I realized, today, that I'm angry at him for that. I also realize that it is part of the grieving process so I need to get over it. OK. I'm good with that.
All kidding aside, here begins the purge and spewing of thoughts...
hmmmmm.......I have nothing more... maybe next time...
