The Words I Couldn’t Say

I’ll start with an apology.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for being a terrible granddaughter.

I was so happy that you knew who I was when I called to wish you a happy birthday today. I had heard the dementia was bad and I wasn’t expecting us to be able to talk. The call was less than 2.5 minutes. You told me you love me; that you’ll always love me. Then you cried.

The last time I heard you cry like that was when you had heart surgery decades ago. If you weren’t ill, I don’t think you would have cried. My grandfather was too proud to cry.

Laughter, anger, humility. Those you could express. For men of our culture and your generation, you don’t cry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I never call. I’m sorry I don’t write or send you pictures of your great-grandchildren. I’m afraid. Afraid that she’ll find them and take them.

I’m sorry you will probably never see me again. I’m sorry that the next time I see you it will be when we inter your body next to my grandmother: your loving wife.

I can’t go back there. When you pass, it will be the last time I go back. I can’t bring myself to be there.

I will try to call more often. I want to, but I’m scared. I’m scared my voice will make you cry again. I’m scared she’ll be the one to answer your phone one day. I’m terrified of the day when you don’t know my voice.

I’m selfish. These are excuses. The fear is real, but I could do more.

Thank you.

Thank you for being the only positive male role model I had growing up. Thank you for taking me to karate, to choir, getting me that wedding singer job, allowing me to live with you when your daughter cast me out.

Thank you for knowing my voice. For telling me that you love me. That you’ll always love me. Those words mean more to me than you will ever realize.

I hope this illness doesn’t ravage you. I hope I was able to be a good granddaughter when I was younger. I hope I made you proud. I hope, as your mind slips away and your body fails you that the memories you have of me are positive. I hope, that when the time finally comes, that you can go in peace.

I love you, Grandpa.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 2 comments

It's Okay to Let Sadness Drive

Lately I’ve been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. I feel bad for my husband, although I can’t do anything to change how I’ve been feeling lately aside from what I’m already trying.

I follow Danielle LaPorte and her inspirational writings and such. She has offered a lot of good programming and audios for free or for exceptionally cheap. I’m in the middle of working on the Fire Starter Series which is 16 audio sessions with worksheets. I’m saving these sessions to a USB to share with my best friend and hope that we can do them together.

It’ll help us connect and it’ll help us realise our own potentials.

In the reading today Danielle talked about sadness. Since I’ve been feeling a bit rough lately this really hit home with me. She shared this photo and I think it’s pretty important:


photo credit to Danielle LaPorte

She writes about how when you’re sick most people relish that moment to reevaluate, burn off some extra crap and focus on themselves. We should do the same when we’re sad. I think that’s really important.

I have a few friends who don’t like to get sad. They feel that being sad is a negative thing and that they should always be happy. When I watched Inside Out I realised how important it is to let Sadness drive sometimes.

Sometimes the path to healing can only be found once we take the time to let out all our pain.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 1 comment