It’s hard to believe that a year has gone by. A year since my mom called to tell me my grandma had died in the night. We all thought she we would live forever, though we knew that was an impossibility. With some people, it just feels that way.
Time is a strange thing. It can be your enemy or your best friend, depending on what your needs are, what emotions you are having, what experience you are in at any particular moment. Who can explain it? Why does it seem that time stands still for seconds, minutes, hours, days when you are deep in grief and then suddenly, unexpectedly, you look back and the past weeks, months are a blur and a year has slipped by? Is that healing? Is that moving on? Or is that numbness?
I like to think it is dealing with the pain and moving on with life, because I know that is what loved ones would want and expect from us. And when I look back over the weeks and months, I know that I have been happy and living, and not numb or in pain. It is just the trickiness of time that makes me question it all.
We talked about getting together tonight as a family so no one felt alone on this day without her. “But why?” I wondered. Why mark a day that could not be changed, or taken back. Why mark the day where each day after was a little bit worse?
As I spoke with my mom on the phone about why we shouldn’t get together, how we were too busy and it wouldn’t make a difference, my phone clicked. Hers did too.
“What was that?" she asked.
“It must have been grandma,” I said. “She’s letting us know she’s all right. She’s with grandpa and they’re having a good time.”
We both laughed, and started another year without her.
Sunday afternoon in Charlotte.
1 day ago