There’s no easy way for me to open this post. I have nothing clever or witty to say. My heart is heavy and broken. Just before midnight on Tuesday, August 12th, my dear grandma passed away. My parents called me a few minutes to midnight to let me know. Sleep was impossible. I physically felt nauseated. I had to sit up in bed for quite sometime. Crying. My mind and heart simply would not settle down.
I am going to start off with sharing what I had to get off my chest after 1am that night. I posted it on Facebook.
“It’s not going to be a good day. splat said. Not a good day at all. Seymore shook his head”
I suppose it’s only fitting that a quote from a book, even one of Jackson’s, is what keeps running through my head tonight. As I try to sort through my utter and profound grief over losing a woman I so deeply love. A woman who had a large part in helping shape the bookworm I still am to this very day. A woman who took me to the library more times than I can remember. Who let me climb her tree with my books in tow and sit up there reading. Who often shared with me stories about the books she was reading. My grandma. And every time I’ve tried to close my eyes to get some rest I just keep hearing that line:
“It’s not going to be a good day. Not a good day at all.”
That quote truly kept running through my mind. Over and over and over. My grandma was all of those things to me, but she was more than that as well. I literally have thousands of memories buried deep within my subconscious. I spent SO much time with her as a child and as an adult. I even lived with her for almost 2 years in late teens early 20’s. I moved in with her and my grandpa a few months before I turned 20 and moved out a few before I turned 22. I had countless sleepovers at their home as a little girl. We were close.
I can’t even sort through everything that I am feeling or remembering right now. I still feel overwhelmed. I have cried a lot. I have also gone out of my way to stay as busy as I can. Despite my husband’s pleas that I take it easy since I am 8 1/2 months pregnant. I prefer to be busy. The quiet moments are when the tears come. I couldn’t even do my normal routine of quietly relaxing while drinking my coffee this morning. I had to write.
I am not an overly religious person. I suppose, though, I do believe in forces in the world around us. Meaningful moments. Strange occurrences. Coincidences exactly when you need them. Yesterday on my drive home from my Grandpa’s I put on a Spotify shared/public playlist. It is called Coping with Loss. I simply hit shuffle. The song from Fievel came on first. Somewhere Out There. I had no idea that song was even on the playlist. I saw the first two song titles and thought “eh, sounds like it might be ok.” And decided to give it a shot. My mom and I watched that movie and loved the song when I was little. We sang it for my Grandma. She was so in love with my performance and my enjoyment of that movie she went and bought me the stuffed animal. A large Fievel. I watched that movie A LOT at her home. I have vivid memories of that and that song. So it hit me intensely that it was the first song to come on simply by hitting shuffle. Those quiet moments alone bring some overwhelming emotions.
I know she is resting now. The last thing I said to her before I left on Tuesday night around 7:30 was “Goodbye Grandma. Get some rest. I will be back tomorrow.” I suppose she listened to me. She peacefully went while sleeping. She went to get her rest.
Christmas Eve 2013
October 2012
Nicole M. VandeBoom 