I know most of the time I keep things light-hearted and fun, but the sad truth is that tragedy does strike and we, as parents, have to help our kids deal with the challenges of the grieving process. My children were blessed with five great grandparents when they started their young lives. Now, as of January 8, my wonderful grandmother is the only one left.
About four years ago, my husband's grandmother, affectionately known as "Mom", passed away. She lived with us for a few years until the physical demands of caring for someone in the advanced stages of Alzheimer's Disease were too much for my mother in law (who still lives with us) to handle on her own. We had no choice but to place her in a nursing home where she could receive round the clock care. My children, who were 8, 6 and 4 at the time, wanted to honor Mom in a special way. We had a small memorial here at the house because Mom was to be cremated and buried in her home town in Michigan. Afterwards, the kids, my husband, and I walked to the field near our home and released a balloon into the air. Attached to the balloon were handwritten notes that each of my children had written for Mom. That's the part they remember most about honoring Mom. It helped the kids tremendously to think that their letters would somehow reach her in Heaven.
In December, 2011 we lost my Grandaddy to a bout of pneumonia. He died within days of his 90th birthday. My dad's side of the family dealt with this loss with love and laughter, even if some of the laughter was by accident. My dad is one of six children. In a private moment, each of the children placed something special in their father's casket. A family photo to keep him company, his favorite nuts for a snack, money in his pocket in case of emergency, and a golf ball to enjoy the greens once more. Well, oddly enough golf balls enjoy rolling and bouncing around in the empty spaces of a casket. It turns out, if you don't warn the hearse drivers that something will be moving around inside of a casket, it kind of freaks them out. My family loves each other very much and I think that we are pretty close. None the less, it was a great bonding experience in that only immediate family members knew what that strange sound was coming from Grandaddy's casket while he was being transferred from the hearse to his final resting place. Snickers abounded and grief was abated, if only for a moment.
This brings me to our family's most recent encounter with grief. My mother's parents both passed just recently. My Paw Paw just after Christmas and my Grandma just after the new year. They had been married an astonishing 67 years. I can't remember them ever being apart so I suppose it is only appropriate that they are together again, this time for eternity. When Paw Paw died, I was comforted by the fact that I still had my Grandma and that was like still having a little piece of my Paw Paw left. The last time I saw my Grandma, I told her all about my Paw Paw's funeral service because she had been too weak to attend. Her heart was visibly broken and it tore me up to see her like that. She clutched both his picture and my hand and she sobbed. My Grandma had been my best friend my whole life. When I told my children of her passing, the first thing my youngest said was, "But she was the one that taught me to read." My Grandma was a natural teacher. She, like Mom, Grandad and Paw Paw, were strong inspirations and influences in my life and in my children's lives. I can't count my blessings enough that we have had these angels in our lives, but dealing with these losses has shaken my world.
I liken the sadness I have felt to the night. I wake up in the morning to a new day and everything seems like it will okay, but there's a darkness looming on the horizon. Night is coming. As the day goes on, it grows brighter and brighter. I feel like I can work and that I have the motivation and the inspiration to get up write. And then the peak of the day has come and the sun has passed over its highest point. Yet here I am, staring at a computer screen, having not written a word. Thoughts start to weigh heavy on my mind. They grow darker and heavier just as the day grows darker and colder. Before I know it, dusk is settling in, replacing the day with the night. Filling my exhausted head with sadness.
My kids handled these recent deaths probably better than I did. They were remarkably mature and strong in the face of such tragedy. We have crawled up together on my bed and on the couch and cried, talked, laughed and shared stories. There have been meltdowns and quarrels, but they have been comforted by the memories they have and jokes that they can share; the kind that only family will ever understand. Most of all, they have me and they have their dad and they have each other.
As much as it felt like it would, the world didn't stop. We somehow managed to go on without you in our lives. It hurt so much. The kind of hurt I thought would never go away. I will always love my grandparents and am grateful for all they did for me and for my precious family. In time we will heal, and we will heal through the laughter and the love that we provide each other. So it's not goodbye, but goodnight. Rest well, because we will have a lot to talk about when I see you again.
No comments:
Post a Comment