grief

The Legend Rests

At the beginning of April, my grandfather passed from this world to the next.

I wrote about him in 2018, but nothing I could ever say would do him justice.

He was a force. A strong presence in my life. He showed me what a male role model should be. He, and my grandmother who passed twelve years before him, were the two constants in my life.

I might move, I might be lost, but I always knew where to find them.

He did so much for me and there is no way I could ever give all the gifts he shared with me justice.

Things that I didn’t understand as a child that can only be brought to life as I age and review those memories with more information and deeper understanding.

He and my grandmother gave me a place to live when I had no where else to go.  He was a refuge in the storm of my life. They both were.

Due to COVID, I could not attend the funeral. I was able to watch it streamed online through Facebook.

In all honesty it is probably a good thing I did not attend. It was clear that my presence would not have been welcomed. I could feel the distain for my existence in the obituary, in the comments made, in the statements that listed all of my grandfather’s grandchildren except for me.

There is only one grandchild I would consider to have been closer to my grandfather than I was.

And that child blatantly removed all traces of my existence.

But this isn’t about me. It’s not about the hurt I feel, the aching hole in my heart that his absence leaves, nor the fact that I wish so desperately for the times that I could do over again.

This is about my grandfather.

The man who would tell us that he walked to school every day, uphill both ways, in his father’s pajamas with snow up to his knees. Never mind the fact that he went to boarding school in India.

The man who would always know when we were about to touch the controller and change the channel from golf. He was always ‘just resting his eyes’.

The man who I sang with in Church at Christmas and who got me my one and only wedding singer job.

The man who arranged for me to attend karate lessons at his club a good thirty minutes away when I was no longer able to attend my local one. And he would take me and drive in the poor weather. Every time.

The man who would bellow for my grandmother to make him some tea while she worked in their shared home office in the basement.

The man who always tended to his garden, glued the legs back on that godforsaken donkey lawn ornament more times than I can count.

The man who enjoyed feeding birds and maintaining his lawn.

I was lucky enough not to watch him get sick and deteriorate. I didn’t have to watch him fade from the strong man as he exists in my mind, and for that I am grateful.

But he rests now.

The Legend rests.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 0 comments

Grieving the Past

People who have had less than glamourous childhoods like I have tend to go through stages of grief. We are mourning the childhoods we never had; or briefly had but then lost.

There’s nothing wrong with grief. I have been denying myself this grief for decades and it’s time I started moving forward with the process.

Currently I find myself unable to forgive certain people and situations from 20 years ago. And that’s not an exaggeration. If I want to be successful I need to learn to let go.

It’s hard for me to let go because I have been holding on to my misery and my rage and using it as a way to identify myself. How can I not be myself unless I remember everything that has happened? All the struggles? The brief victories?

I realize I need to remember these things, but I don’t need to hold on to the feels I felt when they happened.

I found a handy infographic on the stages of grief for an adult. You can find the full information at this site.

In the meantime, here’s the infographic. What stage are you at?5 Stages of Adult Grief

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 2 comments