At 5:45 p.m., as I was making bunny ears out of Connor’s shoelaces to get him out the door in time for dance class, a beautiful, lively red-haired grandma passed away. , passed away from this world.
It reminded me of one of the biggest lessons about grief I learned when Tabby passed away many years ago. It’s so strange, and frankly so cruel, that life demands you to buckle up and keep moving forward, even when a major tectonic shift occurs and you’re so hurt.
My grandmother was always on the go for the past few years, so I think she would have loved it if Connor went to the dance studio and did something active.
When she was younger, she loved walking and especially loved riding her bike, and when I was little she would sometimes put me in the basket of her bike and take me for rides around the neighborhood. When I was little, I remember walking around the block with her and laughing out loud as her hair swayed in the wind. I thought that was the most interesting thing in the world.
Most of my memories with her are from my childhood and are now lost in snapshots, but in each one I always see her smiling at me. I can hear her voice telling me how much she loves me.
With her passing, there is one less person on the planet who knew me as a child. I lost one person who loved me.
I’m not a granddaughter anymore.
As I sit at home and look out the window at the blue sky and clouds, and the bright green leaves of the oak trees rustling outside, I am once again reminded of how good it is to be young, alive, and independent. Masu. . So that you can wake up in your own place. Much loved by my daughter and husband.
Note to self — there is simply no time or room for nonsense in life. Run as fast as you can to those who love you and hold them tight.
Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,
Karen
