Echoes of Loss...

I never said goodbye, I never made peace. Instead, I'd run away whenever I felt grief.  How am I supposed to cope, when the thread of life was cut from my grandmother's rope. They say time heals all, but that is far from truth.

I started cleaning when I found out my grandmother was in the hospital and that she would probably not survive long. I remember feeling nothing....and everything. I didn't go to the hospital to say goodbye. I didn't go to the funeral. Somehow, I felt like not doing so would make her departure less so. I miss her so much. Our species is flawed, we have all the time in the world and we do nothing with it, and then when someone is gone we curse that we never had enough time, but it is only through their loss that we see our faults in not honoring people when they are alive. 

I would give anything to tell my grandmother how I felt about her, what she meant to me. She knew I loved her but I never got to tell her why she was my world. It was more than her being my grandmother, it was her saving my life. For loving me unconditionally when everyone else's love had conditions. 

My Uncle recently passed. It made me sad, but not in the same way. My Uncle was very kind to me, never said a bad word, never made me cry. He was my dad's favorite brother and best friend. I chose not to go to the funeral. I don't like them, mostly I don't like my dad's extended family, but I disagree with the idea of funerals. So much so that I have declared I don't want one. I don't want an event where people gawk at my dead body, where they drive miles to see me in death when they wouldn't drive miles to see me in life. I loved my Uncle, I have great memories with him, I had no unresolved issues, and I was at peace with our memories. I don't need to surround myself with family I don't like, to say goodbye. 

I miss my grandmother so much, I miss her voice, her hugs, her curly black and white hair, her smile. I miss having breakfast with her in her kitchen, I miss waiting for her to come home from work. What I wouldn't give for just one more hug.