Tuesday, January 19, 2016

How To Say Goodbye

Dear Gramma,

You've always been able to 'get me' when no one else can. So I needed to write to you today about this ginormous hole in my heart. It is the kind that is there, deep and lonely, but I hide it well, because, like you, I don't normally cry and us strong-willed women bully through the hard times.

But, you told me once, sometimes a person goes away and you do what you need to do, even when the love hurts so bad and the ache is so great, you're not sure if you'll ever be whole again.

I've discovered something this week. I found the answer to that. I will never be whole again. At least not here, not in this life. Oh, I'll be okay, and I'll smile, genuinely smile, but all the while the gap in my soul will exist.

Inspirational quotes abound about filling this vacancy with hope, an eternal perspective, the joy of life in Christ, and reunions. While I believe them all, and find them to be wealthy with truth, today, I need more than prose. I need you.

So, maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I'm just a realist. But, grief is the price of love. A high currency and a painful one. Still, it's one I don't regret paying, though the pain of missing is sometimes stronger than the truth of Heaven.

Anyway, you've never given me a look of reproof. Okay, maybe that time I cheated in Go Fish. But in things of the heart, never. You and I, we wear our pragmatism on our sleeve, but our emotions are as wild as they are untamed. So today I wanted to confide in you 'cause I know you won't reprimand me . . . this hole? In my heart? You left it there. When you left me.

Today I'm supposed to say "goodbye" to you. The goodbye until we meet again, sort of goodbye. But really, Gramma? I don't want to. I refuse to. Because, today my sense of realism and deal-with-it doesn't have enough suck-it-up to survive. Today, I just need you. And you're not here. So, can you teach me one last thing?

How am I supposed to say goodbye?

12 comments:

  1. Grace to you and your family during this difficult time. I'm praying that the God of all comfort wrap you in His loving arms.

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  2. You said, "you're not sure if you'll ever be whole again." Oh, my dear, you are MORE than whole! You are YOU with all the attributes the Lord Himself gave you and then.....your dear, sweet grandmother expanded the "you" that God created abundantly with her loving wisdom, kindness, generosity and her "forever" arms of love.

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  3. Been praying for you, Jaime. My grandmother was my best friend, and losing her hurt so, so much. I still slip and think I'll call her, and it's been almost seven years. It sounds like she was a lot like your grandma. I'm praying today. Love you, girl.

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    Replies
    1. Sounds like something I'll be doing in the future too! Hugs!

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  4. On my father's tombstone: To Live In Hearts We Leave Behind Is Not To Die
    My dad died when I was five months pregnant with my daughter, his first grandchild. I made a tape of his favorite songs to be played at his funeral, which included Sunshine on my Shoulders by John Denver. That helped my grief, doing something I knew he'd like.
    Though not physically, you're grandma will always live through you.
    When my grandmother died my uncles wanted to rush through everything. They even planned a graveside service, which she would have hated. I made sure the presiding pastor had some of her quotes, sayings and favorite scriptures to share at her service. That helped me a lot. Later I made a booklet with favorite pictures, recipes of hers, poems she had written, family history and a word for word interview I did with her a couple of years before. I copied all of this and made booklets for me and my brother as well as all my cousins. I have something to pass down to my grandkids about their great great grandmother.

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    1. Sounds as if you have some beautiful tributes!!!!

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  5. When my father in law passed away three years ago, there was a lot of crying and screaming and begging God to help us understand why. Three years later, it still hurts. Not so much, but it still hurts. I get your pain, Jaime. Know this, it does get less painful. Praying for you and your family.

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    1. Thanks, Mary!! Grief is its own special pain, isn't it?

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  6. It is just an extra piece of fabric over the boob area.
    And it isnt a substitute for a bra.
    camisoles

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  7. This... Speaks my heart to my own grandmother in hospice dealing with dementia, to my other grands now gone. My gaping, gapped soul responds to these words because, oh, how I miss them. *Tears* Thank you for sharing. Blessings.

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