"The Ties That Bind"
The impetus for this post is the following statement from a grey's blog ...
I can honestly say ... I don't know. When my grandfather died 3 years ago I had a constant little ache ... an ache for my grandmother, an ache for my mother, an ache for myself, an ache for my children. I ached thinking that he was gone and I wouldn't get to share the most precious moments of my life, that he wouldn't live to see that. I was also all mixed up because he had lived a long and great life and was so tired and ready to be done with this world and move to the next.
I like to think that if he came back he'd be young again, in his 30s or 40s, running his own business, raising his children, working hard. I'd like to think he'd come back and yell at me. Yell at me for not saving enough, for worrying too much about stupid things, for not taking enough time to talk to my grandmother. For not visiting Kansas enough. He'd probably tell me to listen to my husband. :)
There have been a plethora of important people in my life. But only a handful that I can honestly say have shaped me into what I am, that are the ghosts of my subconscious that come to visit me when the mood strikes. Like when I'm buying something I don't need, or when I'm swearing, or arguing, or eating pork chops. For some reason eating pork chops always makes me think of dinners in Wichita.
Or the piano ...
I was a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 when I sat outside on a bench with my Granddad and he was holding my hands ... "long, thin fingers," he said. "piano playing fingers."
It's wierd the things that stay with you. But I think there are those that need to remember of my childhood ... as a military brat there was no place that was "home." Home was where the military sent us. And by the time I was 18 I'd gone to 3 different high schools, 3 middle schools, and I can't remember how many grade schools. I'd lived in 11 different homes in 8 different states. When calling up memories, every member of my family asks first ... "Where were we living?" This can take anywhere from 2 seconds to 20 minutes to answer.
Kansas was on the one place that when we drove up my grandparents rushed outside to see us, where things stayed the same. In the summer they'd sit out on the patio waiting for us. They had a pretty pink room that they let me stay in sometimes. They always had ice cream. And they took us to the zoo.
I have been extremely blessed on the family front. We don't always agree, but we're family. And my family in Texas and Wisconsin and all over is the same. We don't always agree, but when things go down, you're there for each other. It says something about the man I married (and the family that raised him) that our family values are the same. And I have to say, it's one of his best features.
So I got off track ... but the question spoke to me. What would I do if someone I loved who had left us showed up next to me? My first answer to that question is that ... well sometimes I feel like that happens. When organ music is playing, or flowers are blooming, or every time I hear How Great Thou Art. And sometimes it happens when I have a particular question ... and 9 times out of 10 being reminded in that way gives me my answer.
So what would I do if he showed up next to me? I'd smile and wave ... because he'd be on his way to my Grandmother.
I want you to take a moment, and just think for a second. About what you would do if someone you lost, who was unbelievably important to you, suddenly showed up in your room. Right now. While you’re sitting at your computer and reading this blog and suddenly feeling a chill on the back of your neck and hearing, from behind you, in a familiar voice: “Hi.” It’s someone – your lover, your parent, your grandparent, your best friend, your ex-fiancée… someone you thought was gone forever and suddenly now they are right there. Standing next to you. Asking you to talk to them, asking you to hold their hand.
I can honestly say ... I don't know. When my grandfather died 3 years ago I had a constant little ache ... an ache for my grandmother, an ache for my mother, an ache for myself, an ache for my children. I ached thinking that he was gone and I wouldn't get to share the most precious moments of my life, that he wouldn't live to see that. I was also all mixed up because he had lived a long and great life and was so tired and ready to be done with this world and move to the next.
I like to think that if he came back he'd be young again, in his 30s or 40s, running his own business, raising his children, working hard. I'd like to think he'd come back and yell at me. Yell at me for not saving enough, for worrying too much about stupid things, for not taking enough time to talk to my grandmother. For not visiting Kansas enough. He'd probably tell me to listen to my husband. :)
There have been a plethora of important people in my life. But only a handful that I can honestly say have shaped me into what I am, that are the ghosts of my subconscious that come to visit me when the mood strikes. Like when I'm buying something I don't need, or when I'm swearing, or arguing, or eating pork chops. For some reason eating pork chops always makes me think of dinners in Wichita.
Or the piano ...
I was a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 when I sat outside on a bench with my Granddad and he was holding my hands ... "long, thin fingers," he said. "piano playing fingers."
It's wierd the things that stay with you. But I think there are those that need to remember of my childhood ... as a military brat there was no place that was "home." Home was where the military sent us. And by the time I was 18 I'd gone to 3 different high schools, 3 middle schools, and I can't remember how many grade schools. I'd lived in 11 different homes in 8 different states. When calling up memories, every member of my family asks first ... "Where were we living?" This can take anywhere from 2 seconds to 20 minutes to answer.
Kansas was on the one place that when we drove up my grandparents rushed outside to see us, where things stayed the same. In the summer they'd sit out on the patio waiting for us. They had a pretty pink room that they let me stay in sometimes. They always had ice cream. And they took us to the zoo.
I have been extremely blessed on the family front. We don't always agree, but we're family. And my family in Texas and Wisconsin and all over is the same. We don't always agree, but when things go down, you're there for each other. It says something about the man I married (and the family that raised him) that our family values are the same. And I have to say, it's one of his best features.
So I got off track ... but the question spoke to me. What would I do if someone I loved who had left us showed up next to me? My first answer to that question is that ... well sometimes I feel like that happens. When organ music is playing, or flowers are blooming, or every time I hear How Great Thou Art. And sometimes it happens when I have a particular question ... and 9 times out of 10 being reminded in that way gives me my answer.
So what would I do if he showed up next to me? I'd smile and wave ... because he'd be on his way to my Grandmother.
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