The Journey

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Okay, because last weeks blog wasn’t funny, I thought I should write up a funny one for today. But dadblast it, if my hubby hasn’t let me down. He hasn’t run into any potholes or tore the house up trying to fix a plumbing problem. So you guys are stuck with another inspirational piece.

Last week I blogged about passions, about nurturing one’s soul. So I thought I’d share with you an essay I wrote several years back about someone very special to me. The piece was published in Chicken Soup for the Soul. The essay’s underlying message is about holding on to the essence of what makes you “you”, even when you give your heart to someone else.


*
I stood in the small kitchen as the Florida sunshine streamed through the curtains giving the room a golden glow. It should have been a lovely morning, but grief hung thick in the air. I watched my grandmother as she scurried back and forth from stove to sink, wiping, straightening...busy work. Any minute now I expected her to break down again, to lean against the counter and give in to tears. Two days before, her life, as she had known it, had come to an abrupt halt. My grandfather, B.B., her husband and the love of her life for 58 years, had died.

Suddenly my grandmother's quick movements slowed. I watched as she clutched the dishtowel in both hands, then she stood completely still. A knot formed in my throat and I prepared myself to go to her at the first sign of tears. She didn’t cry, however, she just stood there staring at the counter as if noticing something for the first time.


I followed her gaze to see what had caught her interest. The toaster? Perhaps she was staring at nothing, but then she reached behind the toaster and picked up a small vase of cheap plastic flowers.

She wiped them off with her towel, then turned and placed the faded arrangement on the tiny table. When her eyes met mine I saw in hers a mixture of grief and self-acknowledgment. “I can put my flowers anywhere I want now,” she said, then she shook her head as if surprised she’d said those words aloud.

Her brow creased with emotion and she quickly turned around and continued wiping the already clean counters. My heart swelled with emotion, not for my grandfather, or for my grandmother’s loss, but for the painful, yet awakening truth I’d seen briefly in her eyes as she stared at the simple vase of flowers.

Only days away from her eightieth birthday, she was about to embark on a mandated journey. One that would be painfully lonely for a while, but one that would lead her to discover the woman she’d left at the altar 58 years ago when she'd become my grandfather’s wife. No, my grandfather had not been some evil, selfish man, but he had been a man of his times. More importantly, my grandmother had been a woman of hers.

She had dressed to please her husband, she had supported his strong views on life and politics, she had lived to be the wife he wanted. He had not taken her identity, she had given it, along with her heart and soul. But now he was gone and she was left to discover who she was without him.


It has been four years since my grandfather passed away and since then I’ve watched and am amazed at the woman who took over my grandmother’s body. Oh, she is still kind, giving to a fault, but this journey has changed her. Her muted shades and small-print clothing have become bright and busy. Her house is now filled with colorful table cloths, flowers and feminine froufrou. She still watches the evening news, but is quick to turn it over to a game show or a sentimental show that my grandfather would have scoffed at. She laughs regularly, even enjoys silly jokes.

She has friends over, goes out to the movies -- romantic comedies are her favorite -- and she works crossword puzzles over the phone with girlfriends. She belongs to a pinochle group, has started her own scrabble club, and goes three miles a day with her walking buddies.

She still misses my grandfather. How could she not? He was the love of her life. Recently however she told me of a dream...

“I was at the bottom of this big hill. It was raining and there was a lot of mud. B.B. was ahead of me. He kept looking back and telling me to come along. He had built us a new house on top of the hill and was excited about me seeing it. I was trying to catch up with him when suddenly I saw a little girl standing there in the rain. I knew she was lost. I looked up at B.B. and back at the little girl. Then I told B.B, ‘You go ahead. I’ll be there soon, but first I=m going to take care of this little girl.’”

After she told me this, she glanced at me and asked, “I wonder who that little girl could be?”

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “It’s you Grandma. That little girl is you.”

She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I’d rather take care of him,” she said.

“I know,” I told her. “You didn’t want to lose him, but you did. Now you’re just doing what comes natural. Living.”

She hugged me and pulled away. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got a pinochle game to attend.”


As I watched her walk away, a lovely vision in her purple pants and flower-printed shirt, I realized how glad I was to have gotten to meet this woman, and I’m glad she’s staying around to take care of the little girl inside her. For her journey has taught me a lot about living, about loving other people, and even more about loving myself.
* * *

I will have to tell you that the day I saw my grandmother wiping her countertops, I came home and hugged my husband extra tight. And I told him, “If you go before me, I will miss you. I will be sad, but I will not be in a place where I do not know who I am. In other words, I will put my damn flowers anywhere I want.”

Unlike my grandfather, who was a man of his times, my hubby never told me I couldn’t put my flowers anywhere.
Nevertheless, I think as women when we become wives and mothers we sometimes let go of the small things that make us happy. Painters stop painting, museum goers stop going to museums, readers stop reading. Now I know that as our lives change we have to give and take, I just think too many of us forget the simple pleasures that make us smile, because we are so busy. Too busy to take care of the little girl inside of ourselves.

So . . . what have you done today that just made you smile? Are you allowing someone, or something, to prevent you from letting the real you shine? Do you have goals you have let slide because someone else doesn’t think they are special? Come on, let’s share a little.

P.S. Today my grandma is in Heaven, probably in that white house on the hill, and probably taking care of my granddad. I just hope she’s putting her own flowers where she hell she wants them to be.