The blank pages of my grief journal were filled in, yesterday. I began that little journal a little before
my grandpa died in 2007, and it will be closed with my grandma’s death, 2012. I have not written my perspective about her
life in it but I soon will. These
events are like book ends—many memories and much writing between.
This past Saturday, (between my grandma’s funeral on Friday
and our girl’s birthday party on Sunday) I packed up all our Christmas
decorations from this past season. That
process had come to a complete halt due to the two feet of snow that had to be
waded through to get to our shed where all the decorations are stored. This delay was OK with me, for I dearly love
Christmas decorations!
As I began packing, I was reminded of my maternal Grandma, Virginia
Sisk. I was reminded of her because our
Christmas tree was decorated in red and gold, with tassels and bows, cardinal
birds and bird nests. Virginia loved
cardinals –so they were sort of in her honor.
Another part of the decorations on that tree were made way back before ‘recycle,
reuse, repurpose’ was popular, by my paternal great grandma, Lucille (AnnaBelle’s
mom) and me. She loved to crochet and
she loved craft projects. One day in the
middle 1970’s, she and I worked all day crocheting Christmas ornaments. They were red and green circles—yarn crocheted
around coffee can lid-rims, and then little bells attached in the center. (I know, but they look better than that
sounds—and I have the memory of working with her!)
This past Saturday, as I placed the ornaments carefully in
the storage container, I was overwhelmed with a wave of emotion. It somehow made sense all of a sudden that I
would be grieving AnnaBelle as I packed
up the decorations from celebrating our first Christmas in our new home,
2012. This, too, seemed to be another
type of book end to losing my grandmas.
The last time we purchased a home was in the summer of
1991. As I unpacked Christmas decorations that year, I was grieving the loss
of my sweet Grandma Sisk. Grandma was
excited to come spend Thanksgiving Day that year, at our new house, for she
hadn’t been able visit since our move. That
morning my mom went to pick her up only to find that she had already left. She was 87, still lived on her own; she had gotten
dressed and then, peacefully went to Heaven—what a merciful way to go—what a
shock for those of us left here without her!
As the Christmas season opened that year, I would unpack a box of decorations and cry…(I
can also remember crying as I used my crock pot during those days—for that was
an ‘engagement present’ she purchased for Randy & me as soon as she heard
that I had an engagement ring—eleven years before!) I was crying for my loss, not the fact that grandma
was in Heaven…just that we missed her!
And so, the opening of one Christmas season, and the closing
of another—twenty-one years apart…somehow, it makes sense. For this season of my life, our life as a
married couple is a season to make memories with our own grandchildren. And, someday, they will be writing or
talking, I hope, about G-Mar and Grandpa…and, I can Only Imagine!
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