I was going through my other blogs drafts and found a few that I needed to share here. This is one of them, it was written in August 2015. But recently my youngest daughter was outwardly grieving her grandmother once again. As I snuggled and told her good night and we visited about her pain she stated “sometimes it’s hard to say goodbye”. Yes. Yes it is my dear child.
A few days after my mother’s passing, my seven year old and I were cuddling on the couch before her bedtime. I had not had time to really check in with her about her feelings regarding the death of her grandmother since first telling her. I took this quiet time to do just that. The little girl wanted to know more about what was wrong with Grandma’s heart and lungs. I explained to a degree I thought appropriate for her age. She then continued to ask how someone has these issues. I further explained that sometimes it is hereditary, which I had to explain also, and that because Grandma smoked that didn’t help. After answering her questions I decided that my little girl was only seven and didn’t know the woman she called Grandma as I did. So I chose to tell her about the woman my mother once was.
I shared with her that when I was her age that Grandma was very different than what she knew. Her eyes began to look inquisitive and I continued. I first told her that Grandma worked physically hard often, that she could work as hard as her Daddy even. My daughter’s eyes then became large and she was amazed or so it seemed at this tidbit of information. I continued by letting her know that Grandma used love to dance and she was loud, and enjoyed a good time back in the day. That because she hurt her back many years ago, that as time went on, she was unable to do those things any longer.
My daughter knew the woman that spent a lot of time in a recliner with her trusty dog on her lap, watching TV, reading a book, or playing her electronic game. When she did see her walk it was with difficulty and moans and perhaps shortness of breath. A struggle each time.
As I was explaining how over the years Grandma’s health had gotten worse, that she didn’t have the energy to do some things, my daughter found a glimmer in the darkness. She looked at me and said “but Grandma had energy when I would come in her door.” I didn’t quite understand at first, so I had her repeat a couple times. Then I said, “Do you mean excitement”? She said “YES”!
This is where the tears began to fall from both our eyes. Our hearts ached because we knew that would never happen again.
My little girl was right, my mother always greeted her with excitement and held out her arms for a hug. She may not have gotten up and came across the room, but she made her young granddaughter feel loved all the same. I am grateful for this memory for my little girl and I hope she can remember it forever.
Grace is a gift,