That Time Again...

<Originally posted elsewhere on April 15th, 2009>


"Even when the mind forgets, the body remembers." 

My therapist said this to me about a year ago.  I was feeling tired, depressed and not sure why.  Sitting in her office, I suddenly remembered that it was near my Grandma's birthday. 

Last year for the anniversary of her death, I went home to be with my mom and see Gram's grave.  I found it strangely comforting to see her buried next to my Grandpa.  I know how much she missed him and I was glad they were finally together. 

This year, that anniversary date came and went with little to no acknowledgment.  I guess I was busy. 

Her birthday would have been Sunday but I didn't remember until Monday.  Even though it took my brain a few days to figure it out, I think my body has known.  I have been inexplicably tired.  Even more sensitive than usual.  Feeling on the verge of going postal. 

I think I'm grieving again. 

I think it's probably healthy that these dates slipped by without me noticing.  I think that's probably a sign of healing and moving forward.  But it still scares me.  I worry that forgetting those dates will lead to forgetting other things.  Like her gravelly voice from years of smoking.  Or how she would start sentences by saying "Your Grandma..." Or how she always had a band-aid on her thumb because she was missing a nail that never quite grew back.  


I want time to heal but I don't want it to erase these memories.  I don't want time to steal away whatever I have left of her in my head and in my heart.   

Even though she's been gone two years, life has felt particularly lonely without her the last couple of weeks.  I'm not sure what has precipitated this but on several occasions, I've wanted to call her just to chat.  I would have called to tell her about the Easter Moon show.  I would have sent her pictures from the Florida trip with descriptions on the back about what everything was and who everybody is.  I would have been eager to tell her about our plans for Seattle.  Forcing myself to be spiritual for five minutes and trying to take comfort in the unproven fact that "she's watching from somewhere up above" just isn't cutting it.  Assuming there is any sort of spiritual heaven, Gram has probably been tossed out of it for smoking when she wasn't supposed to and for cursing at the old people for driving too slowly. 

I am fortunate to have a wonderful chosen family as well as my husband's family.  My family now is far bigger than it's ever been.  But there are still times when the void is massive and inescapable. 

I am sad and the only way to get over it is to go through it.