I'm not sure of the best title for this entry, but I'll leave it as "Missing You" for now. MaMa and Granddaddy, I miss you. My heart and eyes feel the weight and sting of tears that still have not fallen. The complexities of life, the swirl of emotions and facts and faith give me chest pains as the "unsorted out" fails to fully be processed and passed through.
Thus, I'll write
and paint
and process the way God has gifted me to.
MaMa and Granddaddy, I miss you. My eyes sting as I type your names. All this week, I've wanted to call you on my way home from work and talk to you like I used to.
I miss you.
I wear your hat and necklace; from time to time I look at your pictures. I played Pokeno like you used to, but I know you are not in any of those things. You are now gone. Part of what keeps some of my tears from falling is knowing this to be a good thing. You were so sad when Granddaddy left- stressed and so sad. You'd smile and go and do, but nothing could quite fill his place. You'd tell me you felt him near sometimes and that you would talk to him. I know that helped as well as hurt your heart- the intangibility of his presence. Soul-mates it seems you were. "Inseparable" is how others described the two of you.
"Lub" is what you said you had when you were being silly. "Lub"- something deeper than love.
The melody, "Real Love" by Eric Benett touched your heart as you reflected on you all's love.
Inseparable is what you seem to be.
You never wanted to be apart too long.
And apparently you weren't meant to be apart.
Part of what gives my heart solace is knowing that you are together again. It keeps some tears from falling. Although my soul is trying to process your absence, it cannot fully cry because of a simultaneous truths: yes, you both are gone from this earth, but you are together again. The latter is much greater to me.
At first glance, there is something somber about the two of you walking away, but a longer look and reflection comforts my heart:
together again
no more tears
inseparable lovers, husband & wife, soulmates and friends
Guy and Jo
MaMa & Granddaddy
I love and miss you both.
I'm grateful to have had so much time with you in my life.
I'm thankful for your presence throughout the years.
Because of you,
I am.
...
I'll never forget our last conversation. I had just made a pound cake. I was sharing with you my "life lesson" from the process and telling of a devotional that had come to mind: a mother or grandmother had her child taste the ingredients of the pound cake. Individually, the ingredients did not taste good: flour, baking powder, salt, etc. Nevertheless, combined at the right proportions, mixed, and baked (put in the oven of life) for a certain amount of time, the ingredients yielded a delicious pound cake. I shared with my grandmother that this devotional came to mind as I was making the cake. She listened silently. Her silence made my heart sink a little, realizing she was experiencing such a deep loss that some cliche devotional couldn't even begin to heal her hurts. I was not in the best emotional space either, but overall was at peace. The devotional was a reminder to give God time and liberty with my "pieces."
...
I told my grandmother I was trying to perfect my pound cake and was going to let a couple of girlfriends taste it. She encouraged me saying, not to expect it to taste like someone else's. She also told me not to watch people eat it like her sister would do. (I was laughing.) She said her sister would cook and then sit there with you while you ate the food, asking how you liked it. I thought it was funny and told her that my friends knew I was open to constructive criticism because I was trying to perfect my cake. In addition, they wouldn't be eating it in front of me anyway. It brings a smile to my face as I recall her conversation.
