Friday, May 17, 2013

A Lifetime Ago

It is time for Secret Subject Swap, one of my favorite things to participate in. This month, I'm being all crazy and zany and joining Take 2 of the swap. I know, I know...I'm all adventurous and whatnot. 

There are 11 of us crazy kids that are posting this time. When you are done here, why not take a peak at what they have to offer....

Baking In A Tornado                       
The Insomniac's Dream                          
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                                  
The Pursuit of Normal                    
The Momisodes                                     
Searching for Sanity                    
Black Sheep Mom                    
Moore Organized Mayham          
Daily Dose of Damn                       
Tiny Steps Mommy                           
Mom Rants and Comfy Pants        

My subject is "That was a lifetime ago". It was given to me by a newly discovered (by me) blog, Daily Dose of Damn. Thank you for the prompt....

It seems like a lifetime ago that I was laying on your lap, getting the world's best back rub from you. No one else can even KIND of rub my back as good as you did. You'd rock in your rocking chair while rubbing my back, humming an old country song. You smelled of a perfume I can't quite place now, coffee and whatever you'd jarred for that day. 

It seems like a lifetime ago that we were attending that old Southern Baptist church together, having dinner on Sunday afternoons so that we can make the evening sermon. A good ol' Southern dinner that tasted more delicious than it smelled. I always looked forward to your cooking. You were the best cook.

It seems like a lifetime ago that you'd let me help you take the curlers out of your hair, as you'd prepare for work at JC Penney. You always told me that a woman was to look her best in public and you'd take the time to fix my hair. When I'd spend the night, we'd put curlers in our hair together and bake something delicious. 

It seems like a lifetime ago that you were so sick, so frail. A shadow of the woman I'd grown to love. You couldn't remember my name and I couldn't really understand why. I was the light of your life, the gleam in your eye and you had no idea who I was. I didn't understand that the cancer was stealing away your memory. 

It seems like a lifetime ago that you slipped away one August night, without a goodbye, without a word. It took for ever for me to realize that it was best for you, that you weren't in pain, that you weren't sick anymore. Selfishly, I wish you were still here, to give my kids what you gave me.





It seems like a lifetime ago, that I'd sit on your front porch and listen to you rock in your favorite rocking chair, playing the Cincinnati Reds game at top volume, because your hearing was shot. You'd never trash talk, never yelled at the TV, just calmly sat there, rocking in your chair and enjoying the time you spent with America's favorite past time.

It seems like a lifetime ago that you'd sit at the kitchen table, with a basin of warm water in front of you next to the standup mirror, a cup of shaving cream and the brush sitting to one side, a razor to the other. You'd let me lather the cream on your face with that brush and have me in a fit of giggles with the silly faces you'd make. Sometimes, you'd let me put some on my face and shave with you, using a spoon to handle it. 

It seems like a lifetime ago that I'd sneak out of my room late a night and smell the musky scent of your unfiltered Lucky Strike cigarette that you smoked while playing solitaire. You'd sit there, at the end of the table, for hours playing that card game. Did you know that Dad does the same thing, only he doesn't smoke and it's on the computer.

It seems like a lifetime ago that you'd wink at me like it was a conspiracy and you'd show me where you hid your Zero candy bars. You'd sit me up on the counter and warm me up a chocolate Moon Pie in the microwave and we'd eat it, making a gooey mess. When Grandma was sick, you kept vanilla ice cream in the freezer for her and some chocolate syrup for me, always making me a bowl when you made hers, sitting me next to her so we could chat.

It seems like a lifetime ago that I came home from school to find out you'd passed, joining Grandma wherever you guys are. Three days after your 77th birthday and four days before your 57th wedding anniversary. You were with your beloved, finally at peace. I hated not getting to say goodbye to you, but I remember you visiting me while I was there for your funeral. You told me it was okay, you were with Grandma and you both would always watch over me. "Girl," you said "We love you.". 




It seems like a lifetime ago that two of the most amazing people left my life. I was nine when my Grandma passed, after fighting renal cancer. I was fifteen when my Grandpa passed after a battle with emphysema. I can still visit their grave where they are next to each other for eternity, headstones joined by a vase in the middle, and see the indention where my Grandpa use to sit on his side and look mournfully at the resting place of his love.




People say I look like my Grandma and I take that as a compliment, because she was one of the most beautiful people I've ever known, both inside and out. If he looks a certain way, I swear I can see my Grandpa in my son. I wish, daily, that they'd gotten to meet my kids. I know they'd adore them and that my kids would experience what I got to in my time with my Grandparents. 

Their love was magical, their relationship was one that I always dreamed of having myself. I always said that if I'd found a love even half as amazing and strong as theirs, I'd be lucky. I feel like they put Matthew in my path for that very reason, to let me see what it's like to love someone so fully, so completely. 




It seems like a lifetime ago, but every day I miss them. Every day, I send a silent "I love and miss you" to them. Every day, I wish for them. I'd gladly give up a year of my life for an hour with them both. Just to be able to hug them, take in their familiar scent, talk to them. I wish it were that easy. But I know, that one day, I will see them again.

That seems like a lifetime to go......

20 comments:

  1. wipes away tears...what a beautiful post and so touching. My grandmother passed when I was nine too and I remember all the great things I was able to do with her...it was a lifetime ago, you are correct.

    Now I love that my parents get to spend time with my son and I pray that he has MANY years to enjoy with them.

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    1. Thank you. My mom lives in Florida and I wish she was here, but when she is, she makes the time with my kids memorable. My Dad lives across the street so he sees my kids often.

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  2. What a fantastic job you did with your prompt! Exactly the kind of thing that made me think of it...You had me missing them right along with you. Lovely.

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    1. Thanks. When I got the prompt, I had to think about what I wanted to write. This just seemed perfect for me. Writing about them just came natural.

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  3. Oh, the tears. What a poignant and beautifully written tribute to 2 wonderful people. I could almost picture them and smell the same scents as you described them. Absolutely beautiful!

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    1. Thank you. They were simply amazing people. I truly believe that the world lost a little bit of spark when they left us.

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  4. Chills AND tears. I think this is one of the most beautiful pieces you've ever written, and a lovely tribute to them both.

    I love that whenever I'm here to read you I don't know if I'll leave inspired or laughing or crying. . .

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    1. Thank you for giving me the chance to write about topics I wouldn't usually write about. These challenges really give me the chance to explore my style and give a little piece of myself that I wouldn't normally give. I'm glad you liked it!

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  5. I'm totally crying over here, that was so touching and beautiful. I can feel your ache for them through your words, while at the same time being transported back to my childhood with my grandparents, before the ravages of Alzheimers and cancer. Thank you so much for sharing this part of you with us. I know I'm going to be coming back to re-read this post again and again.

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    1. Thank you. They say time heals all pain, but I think it just dulls it a little. I miss them so much and it's been 21 years since my Grandma passed, 14 since my Grandpa left us.

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  6. Tears are streaming down my face. This was so beautiful. In so many ways this reminds me of my own grandparents. Thank you for sharing!

    -The Insomnniacs Dream

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    1. Thank you and I'm glad that it could conjure up some good memories for you.

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  7. That was beautiful. You just made me miss my grandparents too, and they've been dead over twenty years. There is just something special about the relationship you can have with your grandparents. They love you like your parents, but spoil you like only grandparents can. I'm glad that my daughter can have the same relationship with my parents that I had with my mum's parents.

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    1. I wish my mom lived closer so she could have more of that type of relationship. They adore her.

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  8. What a beautiful tribute to your sweet grandparents. Those of us who were luck enough to grow up with grandparents in our lives are so blessed! Thank you for sharing them with us.
    Vicky
    The Pursuit of Normal

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    1. We are. I cherish the memories I have of the 9 years I got to spend with my Grandma and the 15 I got the spend with my Grandpa.

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  9. What a beautiful tribute to your grandparents!

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  10. Yep, I'm crying. This is a beautiful post. My grandparents helped raise me, and I was so lucky to have them as long as I did. Your grandparents would be so proud to read this. I bet they are smiling and looking forward to the day your own children will read these words and ask questions. You'll get to describe your life with them to your kids and it will feel just like yesterday again.
    On a less serious note- Zero candy bars. They rock. To the ground. XOX

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    1. Thank you. I was thrilled to get to share a bit of it with my kids. My son took a picture of my Grandpa to school for a veteran's day thing.

      When I feel a tug at my heart of missing my Grandpa more than usual, I eat one and it helps a little.

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So....what did you think? And are you THAT Sarah Michelle?