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Sunday, March 22, 2009


Grief is such a funny thing. When we found out Jenna was sick and then going through her subsequent death, I was still grieving for my granny. When we got the call from Dr. McGowen about our AFP test results, I think I put that grief on hold through all the testing, the disastrous trip to Atlanta and the waiting. After Jenna was born, I grieved doubly. I wanted my granny to be there for me, to hold me and to tell me everything was going to be all right.

I never realized until I lost my granny that you could miss someone so much. She used to tell me she missed and thought about her momma everyday of her life, and I just didn't understand that. Now, I do. I think about and miss her and Jenna every single day of my life.

I don't cry every day anymore, just every once in a while. It's funny how you feel like you can be doing fine (and honestly, I am) and then bam, something hits you out of the blue. It happened this week for both my granny and Jenna.

The other night, I was watching American Idol and Adam sang a Johnny Cash song. I think it was Simon who said that Cash was rolling over in grave, which made me think of my granny. She was always one of his fans, until he came out with one of his last songs, "Hurt." She absolutely hated that song. It came out right about the time she started losing her voice. She would sing, "Huuuurttt" and draw it out, which was funny because her voice would go out and in in the middle of it. When she was done singing, she would say, "That has to be the stupidest song I've ever heard."

Anyway, I guess you kind of had to be there and know my granny and her sense of humor for it to be funny, but when I thought of it, I laughed, really laughed. But, soon, it lead me to thinking how I'll never get to experience her sense of humor again and was soon crying through my laughter. But, I told someone today about me thinking of it and was able to talk about it without crying.

Last night, I was watching The Locator, and they had a woman on there who had given up her baby for adoption. She said that no one who hasn't given a baby up for adoption knows the kind of hole it leaves in your heart and what it feels like to give birth and then leave the hospital without a baby. I thought, "I do. I know what it's like. I also know about holes in the heart, too. At least, you knew your baby was alive out there, and maybe you'd meet her one day." The hole in her heart could be filled, when she found her baby as an adult.

The hole in my heart will never be filled. There is always going to be a little hole there that is never going to heal. I know the pain won't always be so strong, and it's not even now, not anywhere close to what it was like just a few months ago. But, I also know I'm always going to be missing someone from my family.

I hope no one thinks I'm falling apart, because I'm not. I'm doing very well, but I think those two things just hit me the right way this week.

1 comment:

Welshcake said...

Grief certainly is a strange beast. It lies quiet for a while, then leaps out at the strangest times.

All part of the process I suppose.

I hope you have an easier time in the weeks ahead.