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.
