"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity." -Gilda Radner
This is an entry from my personal journal I wrote a couple nights ago. I think it accurately paints the picture of my grief right now. Usually, I don't post things of this personal nature (entries from journals and such), but I feel that it's therapeutic to get it out there and might also be how other people feel after losing someone. Maybe they can help me with my grief, or I can at least make them feel not alone.
Saturday, March 25th, 2016
"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone." -Rose Kennedy
I sit here in the silence of Granny's house, but her memories echo all around me. Everywhere I look, I see a piece of her. This longing, this pain, this realization she's not coming back is beginning to be deafening.
I talked to Leah for long time tonight. We both miss her so much (as does the entire family). However, Leah and I have grieved in different ways. Her's has been a steady sadness, tears everyday. Mine has been halted - a dam of stone built, though sadness, guilt, grief, anger, and such continue to rush against it, the levee hasn't broken yet. It has been built with feelings of anxiety and fear over future decisions. Leah reminded me tonight that before anything can happen, I must deal with and face those emotions rushing against the barricade.
Granny is woven into me. Going through some of her things - the woman kept everything - reminds me of my stashes. My refusal to throw away sentimental objects. The way I think, the way I want to be, my acts, everything that I do is because who she was.
Even though I love being here surrounded by her things, it's hard to see all her memories. Her shoes are left where she last put them on (stockings inside). Her notes, her magazines - tabs marked with recipes and ideas - , her photos, her clothes, everything shows me a fresh memory.
I know that eventually the scar tissue will cover these new wounds, but right now...in this moment...they ache with a painful freshness that I can't bear.
My grandmother was an incredible storyteller. So, let me tell you a little story about her life. Sybil Anne Prestwood was born on August 4th, 1933. The doctor came to her parent’s house and slept on the couch all day while my great-grandmother, Fern, labored with her first (and only) child. After many hours, a beautiful baby girl was born. She lived a simple, country life. Enjoying school and acquiring many friends along the way. She grew into a beautiful woman and began working at the hosiery mill in Morganton. It was during one of their square dances that Carl Barrier caught her eye. They began a sweet romance that resulted in a quiet ceremony one day in late November. A couple years later, they welcome their first son, my father, Michael Dale. He was followed by two more sons, Timothy Brian and Jeffrey Carl. The entire family grew up on one block. Family meals, Saturday suppers, church, lots of playing, and trips filled the following years. The boys eventually married and welcomed children of their own. It would be on the same date as their wedding anniversary in November of 1988 that her beloved husband passed away. In a beautiful twist of fate, two years later, on that same day, their third granddaughter, Megan, would be born. Life from then on was filled with her work, grandchildren’s visits, taking care of others, church, friends, and sweet memories to fill many books.
My grandmother was the best person I’ve ever known. My cousin, Katy, and I were talking the other day about how we felt like Granny was just the most perfect example of a Godly, kind, welcoming, incredible person. She loved with her entire heart. She gave with everything she had. She was simply, the best.
My cousins, sister, and I have shared lots of memories and laughs over the past few days in conversations about our dear Granny and I’m up speaking on their behalf. We loved our Granny more than you could ever possibly imagine. When I asked them what memories they wanted to make sure I included, our list kept on going and going.
We want you to know how she sang to us...seriously the woman had a song for every occasion...she fed us...so much...butter sandwiches, gravy biscuits, Sunday lunches, birthday cakes, cinnamon toast, cereal, coke floats, and orange sherbet drinks, anything we ever wanted, and even if we looked full, she would ask if we wanted more. Her house was the one we stayed at most Saturday nights growing up. She would make us a pallet on the floor, or turn down our beds (complete with heated blankets), sing us songs, and tell us stories. We have memories of laying on her floor and watch VHS tapes. We played every made up game imaginable in her back bedrooms and outside her house. She took us shopping and didn’t get too terribly mad when I set off her alarm in her new car (I promise I was just testing out the buttons for Leah). She promised us that a little Vaseline would cure any ailment and “it’ll all come out in the wash”, “know what I mean, Vern?”
I think though, the thing we loved most about her was that she loved us no matter what. Truly. I remember getting my first speeding ticket and going to her house before my parents. I was sobbing and she later told me she thought I had killed someone I was so upset, but she calmed me down and assured me it would be okay. She welcomed all of our friends, feeding them and telling them to come back soon. She opened her arms to the spouses of my cousins and sister. She loved them and treated them just as special as she did us. And it was truly a treat getting to see her love on her great grandchildren. Seeing Stevie, Journi, Thad, and Saylir play with the same toys and reading the same books on the same floor we did was just the best.
As big as Granny’s heart was, her faith was even bigger. We had many conversations about God, faith, and the Bible. She knew all the stories, people, and verses. We knew her big blue bible was worn thin from so many pages being turned over and over again. We all remember her sitting at the kitchen table each night reading over those worn pages. I recently learned that before my cousin left for California, Granny gave her that Bible. I held back tears when Leah told me that because that embodies who Granny was. Giving her love and faith to those she cherished. Her steadfast love and faith always helped our family through anything.
It’s that same faith that has helped us get through the past few days. Knowing that she is finally reunited with her husband, our Poppy, and her beloved parents, we just know that she is smiling and dancing and probably singing a song.
I know that we’ll miss her more than words could ever say. Her love was what held us together. I never knew how intricately woven she was into my life until recently. Every song, every show, every memory somehow revolves around her.
I pray that I can show her faith and her love through my life. I pray that my dad and uncles see how her love touched all those around her. I pray that my sister and cousins are able to show her spirit and her indomitable faith throughout their lives.
Selfishly, I want her back with me. I want to pick up the phone and hear her say, “Hey baby!” one more time, but I know she’s so happy to be without pain. Without labored breathing and tubes and machines. We love you so very much, Granny. Go swing on those stars and catch those moonbeams in a jar. You’ll be with us in our spirit, our actions, our memories, and our hearts...forever.
