Tonight my heart hurts. It's a deep throbbing ache that I have not felt in literally years. It interrupts my studying with a grip that leaves me breathless. Let me explain. When I was growing up, I had one person that I never doubted was there for me. She always made sure I knew that I was important to her and that I mattered. That I was loved by someone. She was in a wheelchair and couldn't walk but she made the world seem so much bigger, so much better. We had a crazy plan that when I got my driver's license, I would run the roads with her, taking her anywhere and everywhere. Then she died. Almost two months after my 15th birthday I got the call and my world shattered. I had lost the one person that I knew for a fact was actually in my corner. She was my rock in a time when kids are so unsure of themselves and the world around them. And she was gone. My grandmother was gone forever.
I went to her house once after she died, and selected which of her books I wanted, as well as which paintings I would keep. Then I left and never went back. I couldn't face going there and knowing she would never be there again. That was HER place. Not even my grandfathers. Just hers. It was the place where she and I picked strawberries in the backyard patch she had. It was where we had picked polk together for polk salad. It was where she made the best meatballs and mashed potatoes ever. It was where we planted flowers together, picked their seeds together, and handled wild animals together. It was where we played gin rummy together. She was who I had run to whenever I needed a hug or food or clothing (long story) or advice. It held too many memories for me to go back.
Over the years since then, I have never gone back. My grandfather still lives there, with the woman he married after my grandmother died. My grandfather has not tried to contact me once. I have seen him at various family functions but I never tried to get close to him again because I felt that if he wanted some sort of relationship, he would have reached out to me. I did try to invite him and his wife to my baby shower when I was pregnant with Little. I never got a response from either of them so I assumed he didn't want anything to do with me. Plus his wife strikes a chord within me that there is something not right about her. I can't place my finger on it but it's there in the pit of my stomach. And usually when I have that feeling, there is a reason. I may never know what it is, but I know it's there.
A few weeks ago, I started feeling like I needed to see my grandfather, to have him meet Little. Then I started dreaming about him. The urge grew stronger. I voiced it to hubs and he mentioned wanting to go visit too. We made tentative plans. As the time grew closer, I became more anxious about it. Last night I cried about it. Not about going to see him, but about going to THAT house. On the way there this morning I teared up several times. It's a good thing I keep a box of tissues in the car because I needed them. I can't believe that after 18 years, it still hurts this badly.
The town itself has changed. Immensely so, but that doesn't bother me. All towns change. I've gotten over that part of life. We pulled into the drive and the yard looked so much smaller than my memory. The flower bed at the end of where the cars get parked is gone, overgrown with weeds and sundry junk. The tiny yard contains a few concrete statues of various animals and the porch contains junk. Not that there's room for a lot of it, but it's enough. The outside of the house is in disrepair, boards visibly detached from one another and dirt on the windowsill that has been there for a long time. The chrysanthemums no longer line the drive, the roses no longer line the house and the crab apple tree is long gone. It was exactly what I had feared.
We knocked on the door and waited. Finally a hand pulled the curtain to the side. I smiled and waived. She finally smiled and closed the curtain. Then we waited again. We waited long enough that I began to wonder if the door was going to be opened at all. Eventually the door opened and his wife came out to greet us. She didn't invite us inside but stated my grandfather was inside resting. She said they sleep in the living room and really only use that room, the bathroom, and the kitchen now, that they don't use the rest of the rooms in the house. So we stood on the porch and talked. She told us about things that had happened with them (mostly not good) and we told about things that had gone on with us. I asked her about my grandmother's things. She said the only thing left when she moved in was the furniture and that they had gotten rid of that. She claimed no knowledge of what had happened to her trinkets, stating she had never asked. And the look on her face said she could care less. That bothered me but I didn't remark on it. This wasn't the time or the place.
After a time, my grandfather came out. He smiled when he saw me and it was a real smile. He was happy to see me. That was a relief. He gave me the awkward hug he had always given me and we talked more. Little asked (multiple times) about going inside and the excuse was given that the house was a mess. I had feared that too. So we stayed outside and continued chatting, my grandfather gazing at Little with an instant fondness. Of course you can't not be fond of her. She's seriously adorable. He immediately went over to her and hugged her, taking an interest in everything she was doing and had to say. I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me. She already has one great-grandparent that could care less about her, for reasons unbeknownst to me.
The visit continued and went well. We talked about my car and I showed it to him, then we talked about his cars. We talked about his wife's grandkids and what they were doing. She even made sure to mention that they did think of us (my dad's kids). My grandfather made sure to mention that his birthday is coming up soon and how old he'll be (I think that's a hint that he wants us around for it, lol). I invited them to Little's birthday party. And finally, it came time to leave. Pollen aside, the weather had been perfect for an outdoor visit. Hugs went around and they made sure I had their new number and that they now have mine too. Lack of means to communicate isn't a good excuse now.
I managed not to cry the entire time we were there. I think I was too busy absorbing everything. I am stunned by how small everything was and felt. It's like everything shrank down after my grandmother's death. Thankfully I have my memories and the pictures. Hubs and I discussed it as I drove us back towards home and we decided we will do something for his birthday. I decided that I will take little for visits every so often so that he can see her. I still have this over hanging feeling that my grandfather won't be here much longer and that I need to make as much of the time he has left as I can, especially where Little is concerned. And so I will.
Then, tonight as I was studying and the house was quiet, my heart began to feel heavy and hurt. 18 years later, and I feel like I'm mourning my grandmother's loss again. At her funeral, I couldn't even bear to walk up to the casket. I couldn't handle seeing her lying there, cold and unmoving. Something I have always felt is a disbelief in the fact that the body lying in the casket is a person I once knew. It's an empty shell. The person I knew is gone. That THING is not them. Even so, I couldn't bear it with her. And tonight, I mourn the loss of her again. The house I went to today is not her house. Every trace of her has been removed. And the woman my grandfather married speaks of her with vinegar in her voice.
Tonight I mourn the loss of a woman who made the world around her a better place to live. A woman that made everything around her seem bigger, more grandiose. A woman that loved a little girl and made her feel wanted, cherished and loved. I love you and miss you so much.
