A true good-bye

When you lose someone,
the first thing that goes through your head,
is if you run fast enough,
you just might catch up.
But it don't work like that.

I truly believe, deep down in my heart, I have a couple of the best friends in the entire world. A couple of girls, who I have grown to know and love dearly within 10 years, showed and proved to me how important I am to them. Especially in this time of need.

I came home from Boston last week from my grandmother's funeral. They knew I was there. And they kept telling me how much I'm loved and they are there for me. Something I needed terribly.

But before I came home, they told me they were taking me to a spa for a massage to help me relax from a hard ordeal. Something I didn't ask for. They were going to send flowers but it said please omit flowers. They didn't want to donate to something they didn't know much about, so they pampered me. This was my flowers.

Well the hardest part,
Yeah it hurts so bad,
is when she spreads her wings,
but it'd be a selfish thing,
to try and hold her back,
but it don't work like that.

The funeral was hard- of course. But not a lot of crying happened. I thought it was ok because I was ok. I was wrong. It never really sunk in until today. I subbed kindergarten today. My normal kindergarten class. Jennifer's boyfriend Peter had just lost his grandma and they are going to the funeral tomorrow. And so I took their writing time and decided we were going to make sympathy cards for them. To tell him how much they are loved and how sorry they are.

I also wanted to do it to help me grieve.

As I was telling the kids how important Peter's grandmother was to him and to Jen, I told them how much my grandma meant to me. And I just lost my grandma. I had to go to Boston and say good-bye to her. And I didn't get to see her a lot because she and my grandpa were always so far away.
And her being gone makes me sad.
And I miss her.
I miss her a lot.
And I started crying in front of my little guys. But I couldn't help it. The wound is still so raw and I'm still so sad. And I still miss her.

I'm never going to get to cook with her again. I'll never get to take her back to Boston or home to Wichita again. I'll never again hear, "Oh, Hi Laura. How are you?"

I didn't have to have a conversation with her, I could just sit with her and be in her presence and feel better.

Of course I knew she loved me. But, I didn't get to tell her I loved her and good-bye before she passed. Others did. and for that, I'm jealous.

I just remember how fragile she became. And how much I needed to help her and how tough she really was. But she loved us, even if we were tough too. She told you her thought and then shrug and say "eh." I truly miss her.

While in Boston, after the funeral we were all at her house - the house she always wanted to go to - I looked at the mantel. There are 5 kids, 15 grandkids and over 17 great-grandkids. There are a lot of people who can be on that mantel. And only so many get that honor.

I was one of the few.

The story where I got my first job out of college with The Derby Reporter as the sports editor was framed on the mantel. It wasn't even the whole story, it was a photo copy and part of the story.

But I made the mantel.

How long do I get to stay on the mantel? Until the house gets cleaned out. The house......

The house where I remember so much. Grandpa's garden. the kitchen, dining room. The desk in the front by the front door. The clothesline you could see out of the living room windows. The sunroom where it was either freezing or sweltering. The house Nana's father built.

I love that house.
I love everything in the house. (well, almost everything in the house, a few things are outdated)
I love everyone who lived in that house and even some who didn't live there.

I miss them.
I didn't get to kiss them good-bye. And I'm so sorry I didn't get to.