Life in Death by Regina Moomjean

In short, my Grandfather was my last living Grandparent. Ironically, though he was in my life the longest, it seems he took the longest for me to get to know. His wife of over 50 years, my Gram, was one of the closest and most influential people in my life. We lost her when I was only 13 years old and I am finding that one of the reasons the present loss of my Grandfather has been so layered and complex is because I am going through the emotion of losing her all again, it seems. The warmest and kindest of people, my grandfather was an amazing man. It wasn't that he didn't have time for us, or he was mean or anything awful like that. He was WONDERFUL. Always! But as a child, he was a man of few words. He was often in his back office, spending countless hours working on genealogy, one of his life's true passions. He would always come out to say hello, play for a little while, and then retire back to his room or the den for the rest of the my visit or sleepover with Gram. I didn't think anything of it.

And I would't think anything of it, until I lost her. Her passing was such a difficult time for me for an array of reasons. But most crucially, it was my first real experience with death. Even most of my friends hadn't lost grandparents yet. We were all very lucky. While death was something that I always knew of; I hadn't interacted with it personally, until her untimely death. I remember as a 13 year old being so frightened and genuinely heartbroken at the excruciating loss. I couldn't comprehend that at 13, every single memory I had of her would be the same that I'd have for the rest of my life. I wouldn't gain any new ones. I wouldn't have more. It would be just that. Just what we'd shared in those short 13 years.

Once she was gone, everything seemed to change. Visits to Grandad's felt hollow for me, and more than that, slightly uncomfortable. We would all sit in the front room of his beautiful home in Mission Hills, he'd sit rock in his rocking chair and we'd discuss things we'd been doing. The newest play I was in, my sister's soccer games, mom and work. It was all lovely, but it felt so strange. I would always long to go upstairs, being a person who is so in tune with spaces, and visuals and everything tangible that life has to offer. For me, it felt like Gram was still there if I could just go upstairs and spend time in the places that we would share our time. But I never did, because it would be strange for me to walk upstairs while everyone was sitting together in the front room. And as an early teenager, I didn't feel comfortable enough to explain that desire. More so, I was confused in my own head.

Years went on and we all became so much closer with my incredible Grandfather. My cousin, in particular, lived with him for a few years and truly pioneered a deeper relationship and I think, paved the way for many of us. It was a beautiful thing that she did.

Flashing forward, I am so blessed and thankful for the way everything played out. I would give anything to see my Gram again, and to have had her for so many more of those formative years in my life. But looking back now, I feel there is surely a reason things went the way they did. 

What I've learned in this chapter of my life, losing this person who was such an onion to me; is that my life is at a crossroads. I am finding that the peace and comfort that I am feeling is coming from those stories of the past. And I am so thankful to him for documenting them for us. I've found that I DID get to make new memories with Gram. I am still making memories with both of them. Whether it's the millions of photos they took traveling the world that I've asked to keep. Whether it's the couch I also asked to keep, that was one of my Grandparents first purchases as adults. These are pieces of them that I can cherish and help ease the pain of letting go. They allow me to feel like I don't have to let go. I can have coffee with Grandad on his couch. I can paint with Gram, using her old tablets and brushes.

I asked my mom if we could go to my Grandfather's house the weekend after his passing. It felt strange, being there. Now not only was the void of Gram ever present, but now there was a whole 'nother missing figure. An empty house that once was the scene of every holiday celebration. A place I can truly say I grew and learned about myself. I just wanted to go and be there. In silence. I wasn't even sad. It was more that I was finally saying, it's okay to do all those things you wanted to here. Go explore. Walk around. Take photos. Take hold of the memories and let them be alive and part of you, and not something you feel you have to keep only in your memory. Make them tangible.

For me, it was so cathartic. 

In addition, and I could go on forever…but I won't. I am someone who has always struggled with dealing with loss and sadness in general. I won't even watch 75% of movies, because I can't handle anything sad. I can't watch others suffer, and I can't process sadness. I am an eternal optimist, and what's more, is I am an eternal lover of the light. And so, in all things, my new great loss included; I've chosen to search for all the good that is still left. I've chosen to see myself as part of a long lineage of amazing people, who were artists and dreamers and travelers. I think that they are never truly gone because part of them really is in me. And if I let myself open up enough, they are there all the more.

I was always so scared of letting go. I still have fears, as anyone does, of losing those that I love as life goes on. But I am learning that the best way to deal is the share their stories. Make them still known to the people around you. They don't have to only live in the past. And if my Grandfather instilled anything, SURELY it's that I should always remember my past. It always helps to know where you came from. It gives you strong roots.

I will continue getting to know them better, as I think new thoughts and look at photos of them often.  I will see photos on the day of their wedding; traveling through Europe, spending time at their cabin in Big Bear, and I'll think… "I was there, too." "I wonder what they were thinking?" Unanswered questions can be hard to deal with, but I don't view them as a bad thing. Maybe over time, answers reveal themselves. I think they do. If you let them, and if you truly want to know.

For now, that's all. It's the realization that life is a journey, for all of us. Always. We all take turns going through the hard times, and we'll all take turns being strong for those we love when they have their turn. But I know the answer isn't shutting the hurt out. I know the answer isn't weeping and pain. I think the answer is to be ever searching and establishing all that you are feeling throughout the entire process. Sharing it, giving it a voice. Acting on what your heart is telling you to do. 

There's freedom in that. And for me, in this process, that's been the ticket.

I think I've read this at least fifteen times; is it not the loveliest? Do yourself a favor and follow this eternal lover of the light on Instagram at @ginamoom—your days will be that much brighter.