At a standstill
I’ve been coping with the loss of my grandfather for almost two weeks. I think, based on the counsel I’ve recieved from friends and family, that I’m doing pretty good. It’s normal, I’m learning, to be fine one moment and then devastated with sadness the next.
But I think I’m doing ok. I’m moving forward. It’s hard. I post about a social event or new shoes and it all just seems so superficial. I makes me feel like “who cares? what’s the point? how does this matter?” My family has been united in our efforts to keep moving forward, keeping living. We know it’s what Grandpa would want.
But once in awhile, a tiny little something just sets me back and makes me not so sure that I can.
I was thinking last night that I should call my Grandma. It’s been a few days, since the family flew back to their homes and settled back into life, and I thought she could use a little reminder that we’re all still thinking about her. So I looked at my blackberry and scrolled through my contacts, and there it was:
Grammie and Grandpa Gilmore’s House
Grandpa’s house. Staring at me. I was instantly jolted back to my childhood, summer visits to Maine, Grandpa’s tractor, the playhouse he built my cousins in the woods.
I won’t ever erase it. It is, and will always be, Grammie and Grandpa’s house. It’s what he would want, and it’s what I want.
